the man who invented christmas by susan coynewho+invented+christm… · the man who invented...

THE MAN WHO INVENTED CHRISTMAS

by

Susan Coyne

(Based on the book: The Man Who Invented Christmas

By Les Standiford)

December 1, 2016 Shooting Script

December 16, 2016 Blue Revisions

January 5, 2017 Pink Revisions

January 8, 2017Yellow Revisions

Producers:

Robert Mickelson Mystic Point Productions310-450-1435

Vadim Jean, Ian SharplesThe Mob Film CoTel: +44 (0) 20 3535 8969

Paula Mazur, Mitchell KaplanMazur/Kaplan Company310-450-5838

THE MAN WHO INVENTED CHRISTMAS

FADE IN:

CARD: NEW YORK CITY. JUNE. 18411 1

In darkness we hear:

DICKENS (V.O.)Dear Forster... How can I give you the faintest notion of my reception here in America?

OMIT2 2

OMIT3 3

INT. DRESSING ROOM - CONTINUOUS4 4

A STAGE MANAGER knocks and calls out in a Brooklyn accent:

STAGE MANAGER (O.S.)Five minutes...five minutes

Ink stained fingers fumble with silver CUFF LINKS. A pair of BOOTS is smartly buffed. A brightly coloured SILK SCARF is adjusted.

DICKENS (V.O.)Of the crowds that pour in and out the whole day; of the people that line the streets when I go out...

In the mirror, the writer (CHARLES DICKENS) looking like an English rock star in his prime (silk blouse, tight trousers, velvet jacket), fusses with the locks on his forehead, then steps back and regards himself critically.

DICKENS (V.O.)....of the balls, dinners, speeches, parties, assemblies without end. There never was a king or Emperor upon the Earth, so cheered.

He breaks into a wide grin.

DICKENS‘Ello, Charlie.

Another knock at the door breaks the moment.

STAGE MANAGER (O.S.)Places, please. Places.

The Man Who Invented Christmas Yellow Revisions January 8, 2016

1

DICKENS (V.O.)I have had deputations from the Far West, who have come from more than two thousand miles distance.

INT. PARK THEATER. CORRIDOR & STAGE- CONTINUOUS5 5

Dickens moves along the corridor. The sounds of the crowd stomping their feet and clapping their hands gets louder as he nears the stage.

DICKENS (V.O.)They come from the lakes, the rivers, the back-woods, the log-houses, the cities, factories, villages and towns-

A PRESENTER is making a flowery introduction on stage. The sound of the crowd is deafening.

PRESENTER....The great magician of our time, whose wand is a book. The Shakespeare of the novel. The people's author.

Dickens reaches the wings. He breathes in deeply through his nose, steadying himself. He nods at the Stage Manager.

STAGE MANAGERReady?

DICKENSReady.

PRESENTER (O.S.)... the one and only, the inimitable, the great and marvellous Boz! Ladies and gentlemen- Mr. Charles Dickens!

The stagehands raise the curtain. Dickens takes a deep breath and steps into the light. At the sight of him, the audience rises to its feet as one.

Behind him “TABLEAUX VIVANTS” appear, depicting sights and scenes of London, Beef Eaters roll out canons, characters from Oliver Twist come to life, urchins dance along to the band.

Dickens taking this in.


2

DICKENS (V.O.)Americans are friendly, earnest, hospitable, kind, frank, accomplished, warm-hearted, fervent and enthusiastic...

Uncertainly, he raises his arms above his head. The crowd goes wilder still, BLANKETING the stage with flowers and SCREAMING “BOZ, BOZ, BOZ”.

Dickens attempts to speak to the crowd.

DICKENSDear friends, you have welcomed me to your country with such open arms that I fear that I-

But his speech is cut off by a deafening volley as the cannons behind him fire ticker tape into the air. Dickens shrinks, covering his ears.

DICKENS (V.O.)I can't wait to get home.

OMIT6 6

TITLE CARD: LONDON, OCTOBER, 1843

SIXTEEN MONTHS LATER

INT. DICKENS STUDY - MORNING7 7

Dickens sits at his desk, pen in hand, in front of a blank piece of paper, as if willing something to appear.

After a moment, he throws the pen down and gets up to look in the mirror, making a face.

He picks up an ACCORDION and plays a few squeaky NOTES.

DICKENS(sings)

Yanky doodle, doodle dandyTurn right round in the bottom of the gangy–

There is a tentative KNOCK at the door. He throws it open in frustration.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Mrs. Fisk. I have told you repeatedly not to disturb me when I’m working.


3

MRS. FISK, the housekeeper, a rather severe Scotswoman, is taken aback.

MRS. FISKI beg your pardon sir. Only, Mr. Forster is here.

Beat.

DICKENSI’ll be right down.

INT. DICKENS HOUSE/HALLWAY - MORNING8 8

The front hall is full of workmen, including the energetic SIGNOR MAZZINI, who is busy directing traffic, as various of the DICKENS CHILDREN run in and out of the chaos.

SIGNOR MAZZINIAdesso! Subito! Veni qui!

Kate gives a tour to Dickens’ friend and de facto literary manager, JOHN FORSTER -- a big, pleasant-looking man with a Geordie accent.

KATEYou see, Mr. Forster, we’re having all new wallpaper. French. New doors, new roller blinds for the windows, new book-cases in the library, all chosen by Charles, of course. And the staircase is to be painted green

(to Signor Mazzini)— though not too dull a green, Signor Mazzini.

SIGNOR MAZZINISi, si. Capice.

KATE(to Forster)

You know how Charles is.

FORSTERThe best is good enough for me!

KATEI wish he’d redecorate that study of his. It’s like an animal’s den. But he won’t let anyone touch it!

Two workmen pass between them carrying a large chandelier.


4

WorkmanScusi.


4A

KATEMr. Forster. If you will allow me: how do things stand between you and Miss Wigmore?

FORSTERSplendid, Mrs. Dickens. In fact, I intend to ask her to bestow upon me the greatest happiness a man can ever know.

Kate stares at him, uncomprehending.

FORSTER (CONT’D)To marry me.

KATEOh!

She embraces him, causing him to flush a deep crimson.

KATE (CONT'D)I am very glad to hear it.

Dickens comes thundering down the stairs.

DICKENSForster. Good Lord. I completely lost track of the time.

Kate puts out a hand.

KATECharles. We need to pay Signor Mazzini. For the parlour mantle.

DICKENSHow much?

SIGNOR MAZZINISeventy-five pounds.

Dickens staggers back.

DICKENSSeventy-five — what is it made of, gold?

SIGNOR MAZZINICarrara marble, Signor. Finest quality. No gentleman would accept less.

Beat.


5

DICKENSI’ll have the money for you when I return, Signor Mazzini.

Dickens turns to Forster.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Shall we?

Forster bows to Kate.

FORSTERGood day, Mrs. Dickens.

KATEGood day, Mr. Forster.

Dickens is nearly out the door, where a WORKMAN is busy attaching a shiny new knocker.

FORSTERI’ll hail us a cab.

DICKENSWaste of money. We’ll walk.

FORSTERWalk? Are you mad?

Dickens rushes out, followed by Forster. They head down the street at pace, the London skyline in the distance.

DICKENSThe best way to lengthen our days is to walk steadily and with a purpose.

OMIT9 9

INT. CHAPMAN AND HALL. OUTER OFFICE - DAY10 10

A publishing house in The Strand. In the outside office, a nervous young CLERK listens to a heated conversation in the other room.

FORSTER (O.S.)Gentlemen, we don’t seem to understand one another. I asked you a simple question: where is the money?

CHAPMAN (O.S.)The money, Mr. Forster—


6

FORSTER (O.S.)Yes. Money. You know: Pounds, shillings, stumpy, shiners, joeys—

A huge CRASH, then silence. The clerk winces.

INT. CHAPMAN AND HALL. INNER OFFICE - DAY11 11

Forster stands by an overturned tea trolley. Crockery everywhere. He gestures apologetically at the two publishers, CHAPMAN (rather portly and florid ) and HALL (tall and angular).

FORSTERI do apologize.

He attempts to pick up the broken crockery.

FORSTER (CONT’D)Bull in a china shop.

CHAPMANPlease don’t trouble yourself.

Forster resumes his tirade.

FORSTERCharles Bloody Dickens! The best-selling bloody author in the history of English bloody literature —

He gestures towards Dickens. Dickens’ lips are pressed together, his attention on a magazine publication. The headline on it reads “Martin Chuzzlewit, A Tedious Journey.”

FORSTER (CONT’D)Three of his books you’ve published in the last year and a half. Three. So— where is the money?

CHAPMANMr. Forster. Like you, we are as Puzzled as the Egyptians in their Fog.

FORSTERHowzat?

HALLThe Excitement with which a Popular Reputation is Kept up to the Highest Selling Mark will always be Subject to Lulls too Capricious for Explanation.


7

FORSTERAhm still not followin’.

CHAPMAN—Martin Chuzzlewit— a Masterpiece of the Picaresque Genre— and Yet—

HALLBarnaby Rudge— a Fine Book— an Important Subject— But— alas—

CHAPMANAnd The Travel book— “American Notes”—

HALLPerhaps— a Little Too Candid for our American Cousins—

FORSTERNo joke. I heard they were burning copies in the streets.

Forster notices Dickens pained look.

FORSTER (CONT’D)Mad as snakes, the Yanks.

Forster renews his attack.

FORSTER (CONT’D)And what about this fifty pounds a month you’re withholding from his royalties? What’s the explanation for that?

The two publishers squirm uncomfortably. Chapman produces the contract and peers at it to cover his nervousness.

HALLYou May Remember that when Mr. Dickens Approached us about the Tour to America, we were Pleased to Provide Him with an Interest-Free Loan —

He falters. Chapman continues.

CHAPMANWith the Provision That— In the Unlikely Case of Profits being Inadequate to Certain Repayments—

Forster erupts.


8

FORSTEROh, divven’t hoy me that ket, you sackless mairks.

The publishers exchange glances.

FORSTER (CONT’D)So, he’s had a few flops, who hasn’t? Your publishing house wouldn't exist without this man!

Chapman gives Dickens a nervous look.

CHAPMANActually, we do have a Suggestion—

HALL– very Popular with the Reading Public —

CHAPMANPerhaps Mr. Dickens might consider—

HALL— and a lot of Money to be Made in–

CHAPMAN— a Railway Edition of his works?

Dickens is frowning.

FORSTERYou’re not serious? Those cheap yellow-backed jobs? With adverts for fig syrup on the cover?

They all watch as Dickens gets to his feet. He turns the magazine publication over to obscure his bad Chuzzlewit review.

DICKENSWhat about an advance?

CHAPMAN-- on?

DICKENS(bluffing)

...A new book.

HALLYou have a New Book in mind?

FORSTEROf course he does...


9

CHAPMANWell, in that case, obviously. We’d Love to Consider it...

DICKENSConsider it?

HALLThat is to say, If we Like it--

DICKENSIf?

CHAPMANI’m sure we will--

DICKENSGentlemen. I bid you good day.

He sweeps out of the room.

CHAPMANMr. Forster: Please. We had no Intention of Causing Offense.

FORSTERAy. He’s in a fettle now. Give him a day to calm down —

HALLAnd then... It's Most Awkward... “He” was in last week. In some Difficulty. Again.

FORSTERNo, that’s not possible. He’s in the countryside. Under strict instructions to remain there.

Beat.

FORSTER (CONT’D)What is it this time?

Chapman hands him a letter and an envelope.

FORSTER (CONT’D)(reading)

“...need money immediately or productive of fatal consequences... I beseech you to do the needful...”

Forster shakes the envelope, causing several SLIPS OF PAPER to fall out, each one torn from a letter, each with a signature: Charles Dickens. Forster makes a face.


10

HALLHe’s been Offering Mr. Dickens’ Autographs for Sale in the Newspapers.

FORSTERHow much did you give him?

CHAPMANForty-five, All Told.

FORSTERForty-five! — I’ll pay you back for it. Not a word of this to Charles, do you hear?

EXT. GARRICK CLUB - AFTERNOON12 12

A Georgian building near Covent Garden, once a private house, now a gentlemen’s club, with a brass plate beside the door: THE GARRICK CLUB. And underneath, the motto: “ALL THE WORLD’S A STAGE.” FORSTER rushes in, umbrella in hand.

INT. GARRICK CLUB. DINING ROOM - AFTERNOON13 13

A cozy dining room, typical of a Victorian men’s club. Beside the bar, a group of SMART YOUNG MEN are gathered, gossiping and making quips. At the centre of the group is a tall fellow with a braying laugh (WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY).

Dickens stands by the cloak room, holding a newspaper in front of his face.

FORSTER (O.S.)Charles?

Dickens folds down a corner of the newspaper.

DICKENSShhh...

FORSTERWhat are you doing over here?

Dickens gestures towards the group.

DICKENSI’m hiding. From Thackeray. He’ll want to commiserate with me on my Chuzzlewit reviews. Which he will quote by heart.

Forster walks into the dining room. Dickens scuttles after him, taking care not to be seen by Thackeray. Forster grabs a chair and cranes his head around.


11

FORSTERWhere’s Robertson? I’m clammin’ for some scran.

Dickens slinks into another chair.

DICKENSWhy do we come here? The service is terrible. The food is inedible. And the fees keep going up —

An elderly WAITER appears and bows low, losing his balance. He fixes his gaze somewhere above their heads.

WAITERGentlemen?

FORSTERYou’re not Robertson.

WAITERThe name is Marley, sir.

DICKENSMarley?

Dickens gets out a pencil and a notebook.

DICKENS (CONT’D)With an e?

The waiter’s eyes flicker with apprehension.

WAITERYes, sir.

FORSTERDon’t worry. He collects names. Let’s have some oysters. And a bottle of champagne.

WAITERVery good, sir.

The waiter exits, at a stately pace.

DICKENSChampagne?

FORSTERWe’re celebrating.

THACKERAY (O.C.)Celebrating?


12

Thackeray has somehow materialized at their table, an evil glint in his eyes.

DICKENSThackeray. How are you?

THACKERAYTolerable I thank ye. Charles. I must say, I’m relieved to see you out and about.

DICKENSRelieved?

THACKERAYYou know. After those vile things they wrote about Chuzzlewit. I won’t even call them reviews.

DICKENSNo matter, I never read them.

Forster shoots him a skeptical look.

THACKERAYQuite right. Scandalous, what one is allowed to print nowadays.

He waits. Dickens grits his teeth.

DICKENSWhy? What did they say?

THACKERAY“Dull, vapid, and vulgar... Not a single character capable of exciting the reader's sympathy.”

(beat)I certainly didn’t think it was vulgar.

Dickens gives him a tight smile.

THACKERAY (CONT’D)Oh, look! There’s Macready. Poor thing. His Macbeth was absolutely shredded in The Times. I must go and give him my condolences.

Thackeray wafts away to rejoin the group at the bar.

DICKENSI’m sick of London. Over-crowded, over-priced--


13

FORSTER–You love this town–

DICKENS– no place for a man without money. Not to mention the bloody fog--

FORSTERIt’s your inspiration. You’re what-do-you-call it? Magic lantern.

The waiter arrives. He opens the bottle with some difficulty, then bangs a plate of oysters down on the table and leaves.

DICKENSI tell you, Forster, my lamp’s gone out. I’ve run out of ideas. I feel old.

FORSTEROld. Whssht. You’re a puppy.

Forster pours some champagne.

FORSTER (CONT’D)You’re exhausted, that’s what. Too many speeches.

DICKENSI’ve got one tomorrow, for the Children’s Refuge.

FORSTERYou have to learn to say no.

DICKENSHow can I? If I can be useful.

FORSTERYou’ll have to. What with your new commission.

DICKENSForster, I just told you—

He stops himself.

DICKENS (CONT’D)— what commission?

FORSTERFrom Chapman and Hall. For your next book.

Forster grins and hands him a cheque.


14

FORSTER (CONT’D)I told them you’d have the first chapter by the end of the year. You like a deadline.

Dickens stares at him.

DICKENSDo you mind telling me what it's about?

FORSTEROh, I leave that up to youse.

He grins and helps himself to the oysters.

INT. STUDY - NIGHT14 14

Dickens goes through a complicated pre-writing ritual: straightening everything on his desk, paper, ink, pen knife, quills; then rapidly touching his desk ornaments one by one: a CUP with fresh flowers in it, a pair of BRONZE TOADS, a RABBIT, and a CERAMIC MONKEY.

He places a blank sheet in front of him, dips his pen in ink, then stares at the paper, once again willing something to appear.

INK drips slowly from the pen onto the page.

He hears a strange, unearthly cry coming from nearby.

VOICE (O.S.)Ul-ul-alul-alu!

He opens the door, listening.

INT. DICKENS HOUSE. NURSERY - NIGHT15 15

Dickens descends the stairs to the nursery. A young nursemaid, TARA is telling a bedtime story to the children in a soft Irish lilt.

TARA... And on Christmas Eve, they say, the fairy mounds open wide, and the fire spirits pour into the night... and then the Lord of the Dead leads all of the spirits in a Wild Hunt. And he calls to them...

She throws back her head.

TARA (CONT’D)Ul-ul-alul-alu!


15

CHARLIE age 10, Dickens’s oldest son, shivers with excitement and dread. Dickens lingers a moment, mesmerized.

INT. DICKENS BEDROOM - NIGHT16 16

Dickens is in bed, going through the accounts book, while Kate reads a book called Roughing it in the Bush.

DICKENSDo we have a new housemaid?

KATEWhat? Oh, yes. Tara. She’s Irish. Charley adores her.

The candle sputters. She lights a new one.

DICKENSWhat are you doing?

She shows him the stub of the old candle.

KATEIt was only a stub.

DICKENSThere’s another hour in that.

KATEOh, really, Charles.

DICKENSIf you carry on like this, we’ll end up in the Poor House.

Kate laughs.

KATEYou are funny.

DICKENSI’m not joking.

KATECharles. You give money to any and every beggar on the street. You insist on moving to a bigger house, and order all new fixtures, and then you complain about a new candle.

Dickens speaks with a fervid intensity.


16

DICKENSI know whereof I speak, Kate. Debt is — an ogre. If you’re not careful it can eat you up.

Beat.

KATEAre we in trouble?

DICKENSNo. Of course not.

KATEThen what — ?

DICKENSNothing.

Beat.

DICKENS (CONT’D)I’m sick of writing tooth and nail for bread, that’s all.

Kate has heard this before. She goes back to her book.

KATEMmmm...

DICKENSI should have become a journalist.

KATEYou hate the press.

DICKENSOr a lawyer.

KATE“The law is an ass.” I believe you wrote that.

DICKENSA hairdresser, then. In the Burlington Arcade. “Hair Shampooed on the Oxford system.”

Kate smiles.

KATEDo you know what I should have liked to be?

Referring to her book—


17

KATE (CONT’D)An explorer. Paddling a canoe. Somewhere in the wilds of Canada. In a pair of buckskin breeches... All on my own... No nappies to change...

She glances at Dickens, lost in his own thoughts.

KATE (CONT’D)By the way, dear... I saw the doctor today.

This gets his attention.

DICKENSNot- another Little Stranger?

She smiles.

KATEAre you pleased?

Beat.

DICKENSOf course! Splendid.

He stares straight ahead for a moment, then blows out the light.

FLASHBACK:

INT. DICKENS CHILDHOOD HOME - EVENING 17 17

A match flares and touches the wick of a magic lantern.

VOICE (O.S.)And now for this year’s Christmas present!

Above it, the genial face of a middle-aged man appears,(whom we will come to know as JOHN DICKENS). He is dressed in the elaborate headdress of a stage magician.

MR. DICKENSI am the necromancer, Rhia Rhama Rhoos, educated cabalistically in the Orange Groves of Salamanca. Behold!

He CLAPS his hands, theatrically.

YOUNG CHARLES (AGE 10) and his six brothers and sisters are settled in front of a sheet hanging from the clothes horse.


18

Behind them we can see a table set for Christmas dinner with holly and mistletoe.

Mr. Dickens slips a painted slide into the magic lantern and an image appears on the sheet: an angel, hovering above a group of shepherds.

CHILDRENOhhh...

Then, a bearded hunter, with a stag over his shoulder.

CHILDREN(CONT’D)Ahhh....

Then, Aladdin and his lantern.

CHILDREN(CONT’D)Hooray!

On the faces of the children, there is a look of utter enchantment, but most particularly Young Charles.

A terrifying ghost appears next. Young Charles covers his face with his hands.

YOUNG CHARLESNo. Go away.

Mr. Dickens puts his hand on the young boy’s head to comfort him.

Mr. DICKENSIt’s all right, Charlie. I’m here. You’re safe.

Young Charles climbs into his father’s arms.

MR. DICKENS (CONT’D)Here. Now. I’ll show you how to get rid of bad spirits. Ready?

They CLAP their hands together. The light on the magic lantern goes out, and the Ghost disappears.

INT. BEDROOM - EARLY MORNING (PRESENT)18 18

Dickens awakes from his dream. Beside him, Kate sleeps peacefully.

INT. PARLOUR - MORNING19 19

The Dickens children, Charley, MAMIE (age 5), KATE (4), WALTER (age 3) line up for inspection. Dickens bowls in using a different voice to talk to each child, starting with Mamie.


19

DICKENSMistress Chickenstalker. How are you this fine morning?

She giggles.

DICKENS (CONT’D)What is the matter with your pinnie? It looks as if you have been caught in a cyclone.

She straightens it.

He moves on to Walter, standing as straight as he can. Dickens salutes.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Master Corporal Skittles. Sir.

He stares fixedly at Walter’s shoes.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Ahem.

The little boy self-consciously rubs one on the back of his leg. Dickens nods, approvingly. He moves on to Kate.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Hello, Lucifer Box.

KATEHello, Papa.

Dickens offers her his handkerchief.

DICKENSWould you do me the honour?

She blows her nose.

He arrives at Charley, clinging to the leg of Tara.

DICKENS (CONT’D)A-ha. The Snodgering Blee. We meet at last.

Charley shrinks behind Tara.

CHARLEYMorning, Pa.

Dickens inspects him up and down.


20

DICKENSMuch better, sir. But... What’s this? You forgot to wash behind your ears.

Dickens pulls a coin from Charley’s ear, to his delight.

TARACor!

Dickens turns his attention to Tara.

DICKENSTara, is it?

TARAYes, sir.

Dickens notes the look of adoration on Charley’s face.

DickensI see you’ve made a conquest.

Tara ruffles Charley’s hair.

Dickens (CONT’D)What were you telling the children last night? About the fairies?

Tara glances at Mrs. Fisk, nervously.

TARAOnly a story my gran used to tell us, sir. Back home in Ireland. She used to say that on Christmas Eve the veil between this world and the next thins out. And that’s when the spirits cross over, and walk among us.

Dickens reflects on this.

DICKENSDo they indeed?

INT/EXT. FREEMASON’S HALL - NIGHT20 20

On the interior steps of the great hall, a sign announces: “A Benefit for the Children’s Refuge. With Charles Dickens.” Well-dressed PATRONS stream out.

Dickens walks out of the hall, shaking hands with a haughty Society Woman.


21

SOCIETY WOMAN #1Thank you for coming. Such an interesting speech.

Another couple of SOCIETY LADIES go by, whispering.

SOCIETY LADY #2... not nearly as handsome as I’d thought...

A red-faced industrialist, GRIMSBY, and his star-struck WIFE approach.

MRS. GRIMSBYOh, Mr. Dickens. It is such an honour to meet you.

Mr. Grimsby looks unimpressed.

MRS. GRIMSBY (CONT’D)We just adore your books.

MR. GRIMSBYNo, I don’t.

MRS. GRIMSBYWell, I love them.

MR. GRIMSBYNonsense. You just like a good cry.

Dickens gives him a strained smile.

DICKENSWhat is it you particularly object to in my books?

MR. GRIMSBYPickpockets, streetwalkers, charity boys. Those people don’t belong in books.

DICKENSThose people? You mean, the poor?

They continue outside the building where Dickens indicates to a knot of BARE-FOOT URCHINS, watching from the shadows. Grimsby straightens up.

MR. GRIMSBYLook here, Mr. Dickens. I’m a self-made man. I pulled myself up by my own bootstraps, never asked for anything from anyone that I wasn’t willing to pay for.


22

DICKENSNo help from anyone?

MR. GRIMSBYNone.

MRS. GRIMSBYWell, Papa did give us a very small cotton mill for our wedding.

Mr. Grimsby ignores this, whilst shoeing away a poor urchin begging for money.

DICKENSWhat would you suggest we do about “those people”?

MR. GRIMSBYAre there no workhouses?

DICKENSDo you know that many people had rather die than go there?

MR. GRIMSBYThen they had better do it, and reduce the surplus population.

Dickens struggles to control his temper.

DICKENSWill you excuse me? I have a -- I must-- good evening.

He strides off.

EXT. LONDON STREETS - NIGHT21 21

Dickens strides angrily through the chaotic, noisy streets of London, past WAITERS thrusting handbills into the hands of passersby, CABBIES soliciting fares, a BALLAD SINGER croaking out a tune, a barefooted CROSSING SWEEPER leaping into the street to clear away the manure.

A TOOTHLESS MAN in a long cloak approaches emerges out of the crowd and flashes Dickens a lop-sided grin.

TOOTHLESS MANCare to buy? Hard workers. Suitable for factory work or chimney sweeping.

Moving aside his cloak he reveals two CHILDREN, a boy and a girl, pale and emaciated, clinging to his legs. Dickens reels back in shock.


23

DICKENSLet them go! Let them go, or I’ll have the police after you.

The man turns and runs, the children in tow. Dickens tries to give chase across the street, but is nearly knocked over by a large cart drawn by four horses. On the side the words are written: “Warren’s Blacking: The Pride of Mankind”.

Dickens freezes. He looks around. The toothless man and his children are gone. Hearing FOOTSTEPS, he gives chase down a darkened alleyway. Faster he goes, left, right, until he is completely disorientated.

EXT. CHURCH GRAVEYARD - NIGHT22 22

Turning a corner, Dickens finds himself in the graveyard of a church and collapses under a tree, exhausted. He closes his eyes.

VOICE #1 (O.S.)I lift up mine eyes unto the hillsFrom whence cometh my helpMy help cometh even from the LordWho hath made heaven and earth--

A gravelly voice cuts him off.

VOICE #2 (O.S.)-- All right. I’m not paying you by the hour. Skip to the end.

Dickens opens his eyes. In the glow of a lantern, a grave-side burial is taking place, attended only by a red-nosed CLERIC in a threadbare black coat, and a LONE MOURNER in a black silk hat, and two stalwart GRAVE-DIGGERS.

CLERIC(rapidly)

Rest eternal grant to him, O Lord:And let light perpetual shine upon him. Amen.

LONE MOURNERAmen.

The Lone Mourner presses a coin into the clergyman’s hand and strides away, clearly anxious to be gone.

The Grave-diggers shuffle towards the grave, spades in hand. Grave Digger #1 points towards the coffin.

GRAVE DIGGER #1Shame, innit? All that money and no-one to mourn him.


24

GRAVE DIGGER #2-- except Old Scratch there.

He nods towards the departing Lone Mourner.

GRAVE DIGGER #1Who is he?

GRAVE DIGGER #2 His business partner. The meanest cur on two legs, so they say.

Dickens shrinks against the wall as the Lone Mourner passes him, shooting him a look of pure malice.

LONE MOURNERHumbug.

Dickens recoils.

EXT./INT. DICKENS HOUSE - NIGHT 23 23

Dicken returns home, in a state of agitation, muttering to himself.

DICKENSOld Scratch... all that money... shame...

He reaches for the doorknocker when suddenly the door flies open. Dickens reacts as the knocker comes away in his hand.

MRS. FISKGood evening, sir.

DICKENSIndeed, Mrs. Fisk.

He hands her his hat, and heads for the stairs, holds on to the knocker, not quite sure what to do with it, past the dining room where the whole family sits waiting for him.

KATECharles?

Dickens is oblivious.

DICKENS Humbug!

INT. STUDY - NIGHT 24 24

Dickens scribbles furiously, talking to himself, like a man possessed.


25

DICKENS (V.O.)It’s about a businessman. Or a factory owner. A miser. His partner dies. But he doesn’t shed a tear. Thinks only of the money. And on Christmas Eve—

INT. CHAPMAN AND HALL. INNER OFFICE - MORNING 25 25

Dickens paces, flushed with excitement, referring to his hastily scrawled notes.

DICKENS—on Christmas Eve— he meets some kind of, of, of, I don’t know-

He gestures with his hands.

DICKENS (CONT’D)—supernatural guides— or, spirits possibly– who in the course of one night, teach him what a miserable, loathsome, selfish toad he is. A short book. Short and sharp. A hammerblow to the heart of this smug, self-satisfied age.

Forster and the publishers nod their heads with enthusiasm, though it is clear they don’t follow.

DICKENS (CONT’D)It's a comedy.

Forster breathes out, with relief.

FORSTERAh-ha!

HallBrilliant.

CHAPMANDoes it have a title?

DICKENSYes. It’s called, A Christmas Ghost Story... No, uh— A Christmas— Song. Ballad. Something like that.

Chapman clears his throat, glances at Hall.

CHAPMANIntriguing. Really.... Er. One Question— Why Christmas?


26

Dickens’s mouth twitches dangerously.

DICKENSWhy not?

Hall leaps into the fray.

HALLWell, Christmas: Not what it Used to Be, what?

He chortles at his own joke.

CHAPMANI mean to say, Does Anyone Still Celebrate It? Other than our Clerk? Who Never misses an Opportunity to Take a Day off with Pay!

HALLIndeed! Ha, ha. More or less an Excuse for Picking a Man's Pocket every Twenty-fifth of December!

Dickens stares at them. Hall shifts uncomfortably. An awkward silence.

CHAPMANWhat We Mean to Say, Mr. Dickens, is, Not Much Market for “Christmas Books”....What?

Dickens tries to control his rising temper.

DickensIt is a Christmas book because Christmas is— or ought to be— the one time of the year when men and women open their shut-up hearts, and think of the people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures altogether.

Hall nods, vigorously.

HALLIndeed.

CHAPMANMr. Dickens. We are Already Halfway Through October.

(MORE)


27

Even if you Had already Written it, we couldn’t Possibly Get it Illustrated, Typeset, Printed and Bound, Advertised and Distributed to Shops in only Six Weeks.

Dickens voice is calm, but his eyes blaze.

DICKENSI see. Well, gentlemen. Thank you for your opinion.

And with that, he rips up the cheque Forster had given him and sweeps out of the room.

CHAPMANMr. Dickens!

EXT. LONDON STREET -DAY26 26

Dickens hastens down the street. Forster catches him by the sleeve.

DICKENS—the scaly-headed vultures— money grubbing, scum-sucking—

FORSTERCharles.

DICKENSI'll do it myself.

FORSTERWHAT?

DICKENSI will pay for it, all of it, including the illustrations, and distribute myself.

FORSTERCharles. This is madness. Think of your finances! Let’s go back and renegotiate. No shame in it. It’s just business. Why throw everything over for a-a- minor holiday?

Dickens regards him coldly.

DICKENSMy mind is made up, John. I’ve never felt so strongly about anything in my life. You can help me, or not. As you wish.

CHAPMAN (CONT'D)


28

Dickens storms off, heading straight for a nearby Tailors Shop.

FORSTERWhere are you off to?

DICKENSTo raise some capital.

FORSTEREh?

DICKENS(off his look)

One thing I’ve learned from my father: people will believe anything if you’re properly dressed.

OMIT27 27

EXT. RAILWAY STATION - DAY28 28

Through the steam from the engines, a NATTILY-DRESSED MAN helps his WIFE down from the train. We can’t quite make out his features at first. Then he turns and we see that it is MR. DICKENS SR., older than before but still as ebullient.

MR. DICKENSNothing like the air of the metropolis to put colour in your cheeks, eh mother?

Mrs. Dickens inhales deeply.

INT. HADDOCK’S OFFICE - DAY29 29

Forster and Dickens, in his new clothes, perch on uncomfortable chairs in the office of his solicitor. Dickens’s eyes dart around the room: at the PAPERS stained with coffee, GLASSES WITH MOLD halfway up the side. A SAFE, wound round and about with heavy chains.

The door flies open and THOMAS HADDOCK, appears, in a faded coat over a threadbare waistcoat.

HADDOCKMr. Dickens. Mr. Forster. How do you?

DICKENSVery well, thank you, Mr. Haddock.

HADDOCKMittens. Bad boy.


29

He picks an evil-looking cat off his chair and sits down.

HADDOCK (CONT'D)Now. How can I be of service?

DICKENSWell, sir, it’s about the loan--

MR. HADDOCK- come to think of it, there was something I wanted to tell you. What was it?

Haddock gets up and starts to rifle through some DOG-EARED FILES on the desk.

HADDOCKIt was rather good news, as I recall--

Haddock finds a plate of biscuits under one of the files them and offers them to Forster.

FORSTERThank you. Ow!

The cat has leapt onto his lap.

HADDOCKMittens! You rascal... What was I--

DICKENSYou said you had good news. About the lawsuit?

HADDOCKLawsuit?

DICKENSCopyright infringement.

HADDOCKEh?

FORSTEROliver Twisted. “As Re-originated from the Original.”

Haddock has found the file.

HADDOCKOh, yes! Here it is. Good news indeed. We won.


30

DICKENSWhat?

HADDOCKThe fine was set at twenty-two hundred pounds.

Dickens nearly cries with relief.

DICKENSTwenty-two hundred— Oh, Haddock. You can’t think how relieved I am. The pirates are beaten—

HADDOCKThe bad news is the defendants have no money.

Beat.

DICKENSWhat?

HADDOCKBankrupt... Disappointing, I know... Of course, we could have them arrested. Throw them in the debtor’s prison.

Dickens shakes his head, repulsed.

DICKENSNo. No. No.

HADDOCK As you wish. Meanwhile, if you would be so good.

Haddock unlocks a METAL CASE wrapped round with CHAINS and takes out a paper, stamped “Payment on Demand”.

HADDOCK (CONT’D)Here’s my bill. No rush. Next week will be fine.

Haddock dips his biscuit in his tea, placidly. Dickens attempts to stifle his anxiety.

DICKENSThe thing is, Haddock...

He glances at Forster.


31

DICKENS (CONT’D)I’m waiting for a big royalty cheque from America. A trifling sum— what was it, 400 pounds, Forster?

Forster nearly chokes on his biscuit.

FORSTERMm? Something like that.

The solicitor listens attentively.

DICKENSTell you what... why don’t we defer this bill until, say January. And, while we’re at it, perhaps you might add a little more to it. I’ll make it worth your while.

HADDOCKMore? You mean, borrow more?

DICKENSNot much— perhaps 300 pounds? Until— until, January.

Forster reaches for the tea. The solicitor thinks. Dickens looks pale, wipes his brow.

HADDOCKI’m sure we can work something out. At, say, twenty-five percent?

Forster can’t contain himself.

FORSTERGod’s teeth!

The cat leaps off Forster’s lap with a piteous MEOW. Dickens is not well. Ashen.

HADDOCK However, I will require the money to be repaid at the end of January without fail.

DICKENSOf course. Forster here will sort out the details with you.

Dickens walks carefully from the room, as if he might faint.


32

EXT. HADDOCK’S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS 30 30

Dickens hastens down the street, and turns the corner. He leans up against the wall, eyes closed, sweating.

FORSTER (O.S.)Charles?

Dickens opens his eyes to find FORSTER looking at him closely. He claps him on the shoulder.

FORSTER (CONT’D)Charles? Are you all right?

Dickens straightens up, shrugging off the moment.

DICKENSA kidney spasm. That’s all.

He stalks off.

DICKENS (CONT’D)(over his shoulder)

Find me an illustrator.

INT. PAWNSHOP - DAY31 31

Mr. Dickens Senior is showing a PAWNBROKER a book as his wife looks on.

MR. DICKENSBest quality, sir. A1 condition.... and look —

He opens the cover.

MR. DICKENS (CONT’D)Inscribed by the author.

The pawnbroker peers at the handwritten inscription.

PAWNBROKERTo Papa. Love, Charles.

The pawnbroker examines Dickens Senior skeptically.

PAWNBROKER (CONT’D)Five bob.

VOICE (O.S.)Hallo old girl. Hallo old girl.

Mr. Dickens looks up to see a CAGED CROW, walking up and down on his perch. Mr. Dickens’s face lights up. He turns back to the pawnbroker.


33

MR. DICKENSPerhaps we might strike a bargain?

INT. HALLWAY - DAY32 32

Outside the study, a trio of servants and Tara are giggling as they listen to the master making strange noises.

DICKENSOh but he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, old— ... Scratch? Scrounger?...

INT. STUDY - DAY33 33

DICKENS- a covetous old sinner! ... old — whatshisname!

He throws his pen down in frustration.

INT. HALLWAY - DAY34 34

DICKENS (O.S.)....Screwpull.... Scrabbly... scr—rrrr—aahhh— chh...aahhh

They push Tara forward.

SERVANTGo on. He won’t bite.

Tara knocks softly on the door, and opens it.

INT. STUDY - CONTINUOUS35 35

Tara enters. Dickens is nowhere to be seen. She tiptoes over to the fire. Suddenly, she hears—

DICKENS (O.S.)Mr.... Scrimple!

She squeals with terror. Dickens sits up from the couch where he has been lying and takes the handkerchief off his face.

DICKENS (CONT’D)You, what are you doing in here?

TARAI’ve just come to see to the fire, sir.

DICKENSI’m not to be interrupted under any circumstances. Do you hear?


34

TARAI beg your pardon, sir. It won’t happen again.

Tara turns to go.

DICKENS Wait. What’s that in your pocket?

Tara’s takes out a Penny Dreadful magazine and reluctantly hands it over to Dickens. Dickens examines the cover: a winged vampire with bloody teeth.

DICKENS (CONT’D)“Varney the Vampire: The Feast of Blood.” Any good?

TARAOh, yes, sir. Thrilling.

He smiles.

DICKENSWhere did you learn to read?

TARAMy mum taught me. But then she died. So, I had to go to the Grubber.

Dickens recoils.

DICKENSThe Workhouse?

TARAYou won’t tell Mrs. Fisk, will you? She’d think I was shirking.

DICKENSIt will be our secret.

Dickens plucks a book off the shelf: The Arabian Nights.

DICKENS (CONT'D)In fact, I’ll make you a trade. Varney the Vampire for... Aladdin and his Magic Lamp.

She takes the book in her hands with awe.

TARAOh. My.


35

DICKENSRead it and tell me what you think.

TARAThank you, sir.

She hesitates.

TARA (CONT’D)Who is Scrimple?

DICKENSScrimple?

TARAWhen I came in... You was saying—

DICKENSIt’s just a name. In a story I’m concocting. You get the name right and then— if you’re lucky — the character will appear.

Tara eyes dart around the room.

DICKENS (CONT’D)He’s not here yet.

He smiles. Then is struck by a thought. He starts to pace, oblivious to her.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Scrantish?

Tara tiptoes out, unobserved.

DICKENS (CONT’D)S—c—rarmer—... S—c—r—ungge. No! Come on, come on, you old sinner.

He closes his eyes, conjuring up the image of the Lone Mourner in his mind.

DICKENS (CONT’D)SCROOGE!

A sudden gust of wind makes the fire leap up, the papers fly around the room.

SCROOGE (O.S.)Shut the window! Do you think I am made of money?

Dickens jumps. Behind him, SCROOGE, dressed as the Lone Mourner. Dickens is awe-struck.


36

DICKENSMr. Scrooge. How delightful to meet you, sir.

SCROOGEI’m sorry I can’t say the same.

DICKENSCome now, Mr. Scrooge. Don’t be standoffish. We ought to be friends.

SCROOGEDon’t have friends. Don’t need ‘em.

Dickens laughs.

DICKENSNaturally.... I know. Let’s play a game.

SCROOGEI don’t like games.

DICKENSHumour me... What do you think of when I say the word “Darkness”.

SCROOGECheap.

DICKENSLove.

SCROOGEA Swindle.

DICKENSMoney.

SCROOGESecurity.

DICKENSChildren.

SCROOGENuisances.

DICKENSWorkhouse.

SCROOGEUseful.


37

DICKENSChristmas.

A strange look passes over Scrooge’s face.

SCROOGEChristmas.

DICKENSThat’s right.

Dickens leans in, pen at the ready. They both jump at the sound of a piercing SCREAM.

MRS. FISK (O.S.)Help! Help! Get it away!

Dickens throws open the door.

INT. FRONT HALL - CONTINUOUS36 36

Dickens thunders down the stairs.

DICKENSWhat is going on?

He sees Miss Fisk cowering in a corner, as a large RAVEN makes a dive at her head.

MRS. FISKGet it away! The filthy thing!

The children laugh and clap their hands as Mr. Dickens waves a cage at the bird.

MR. DICKENSCome on now, Grip. Back in your cage, old chap.

DICKENSFather?

MR. DICKENSCharles! Good day!

DICKENSWhat are you doing here?

MR. DICKENSI was in the neighbourhood. Thought I’d drop by with a present for the children.

CHARLEYHis name is Grip! He talks!


38

Grip is on a ledge, marching back and forth in agitation.

CHILDREN Can we keep him?

GRIPHalloa, old girl. Halloa old girl.

Mrs. Fisk clutches the edge of the bannister.

MRS. FISKIt’s bad luck. A bird in the house. It means death.

Dickens motions for his father to move into the parlour.

INT. PARLOUR - CONTINUOUS37 37

Dickens turns to address his father.

DICKENSWhat are you doing back in London?

MR. DICKENSMy dear Charles. I will not disguise from you, that this is not the ardor with which a loving father might be expected—

DICKENSYou are supposed to be in Devon.

MR. DICKENSHa, banishment! Be merciful, say 'death;'For exile hath more terror in his look—'

DICKENSWe had an agreement. I bought you a house. Gave you an allowance.

Mr. Dickens looks sheepish.

MR. DICKENSAnd you know how very grateful I am. As for me, I’m happy wherever the weather. But your Mother— is of a more delicate sensibility. The sight of cows causes her actual physical pain.

DICKENSFather—


39

MR. DICKENSAnd then you see, I need to do some research in the London Library.

Dickens is skeptical of this.

DICKENSResearch?

MR. DICKENSI have a commission from the Spectator. To write a feature on the Bank Charter Act. The editor was greatly impressed by my series on Marine Insurance.

Kate and Mrs. Dickens appear in the doorway.

KATEGood for you, Father. And I hope you and Mother will stay here with us.

She shoots a look at Dickens.

KATE (CONT’D)The children and I will enjoy having some company in the evening.

Mr. Dickens glances at his son, apprehensively.

DICKENS(relenting)

The Spectator. Most impressive.

MR. DICKENSThank you my boy...

(dropping his voice)Er. You couldn’t perhaps lend me a tenner? The fellow took my last farthing for the cage.

Suddenly there is an ominous CRASH in the hallway. They run to see Grip, perched on the new chandelier, causing bits and pieces to fall to the floor.

MR. DICKENS (CONT’D)I’ll see that’s all cleaned up.

The children surround Mr. Dickens, delighted, as Dickens holds his tongue and heads back upstairs.

INT. STUDY - LATER THAT NIGHT 38 38

Dickens paces, gripping his hair in frustration.


40

DICKENSGah! “This is not the ardor, with which a loving father-”

He throws himself down on the couch. He looks up and sees Scrooge.

SCROOGEHumbug.

DICKENSWhat is?

SCROOGEChristmas.

Dickens sits up.

DICKENSWhat about it?

SCROOGEWhat is it but an excuse for picking a man’s pocket every twenty-fifth of December?...

Dickens jumps up and runs to his desk and rapidly goes through his pre-writing ritual.

DICKENSYes, yes! Keep going.

SCROOGE...a time for paying bills without money....

Dickens starts to write, furiously.

SCROOGE (CONT'D)...a time for finding yourself a year older and not an hour richer.

DICKENSExcellent.

SCROOGEIf I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with “Merry Christmas” on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should.

Dickens laughs out loud. He looks at Scrooge, admiringly.


41

DICKENSOh, Mr. Scrooge. You and I are going to do great things together.

Dickens starts scratching away, while Scrooge peers over his shoulder, smiling.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Oh, but he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge. A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained and solitary as an oyster.

Dickens glances over his shoulder. Scrooge immediately rearranges his features into a scowl.

There is a KNOCK at the door.

MR. DICKENS (O.S.)Charles?

Scrooge disappears. Mr. Dickens pokes his head in, smiling.

MR. DICKENS (CONT’D)Hard at work?

Dickens grits his teeth.

DICKENSWhat can I help you with, Father?

MR. DICKENSI wondered if we might have an extra candlestick for our room?

DICKENSOf course.

He hands him a candlestick. Mr. Dickens eyes a box on the mantelpiece.

MR. DICKENSOooo. Are those cigars?

Mr. Dickens advances into the room.

MR. DICKENS (CONT’D)I must confess, I have acquired an irrepressible habit of smoking whilst I write. Shameful, I know.


42

He pockets the box.

MR. DICKENS (CONT’D)Well. I won’t detain you.

He tiptoes out. Dickens picks up the doorknocker from the front door, now sat on his desk, and raps on it a few times, angrily. Scrooge immediately reappears, a look of alarm on his face.

SCROOGEDon’t do that.

DICKENSWhy?

SCROOGEHe’ll think he’s being summoned--

Suddenly, the air is filled with a terrible clanking sound, as of chains being dragged up the stairs and the hallway. Scrooge looks terrified.

SCROOGE (CONT’D)Too late.

DICKENSWho is it?

Scrooge is too terrified to speak. Dickens picks up his book of names, rapidly flipping through the list.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Uh...Bunsby. Clennam. Heep...Hexam.

SCROOGEStop.

DICKENSMagwitch?... Marley...

The lights in the room dim one by one. Suddenly, the door flies open and the ghost of JACOB MARLEY (bearing a strong resemblance to his solicitor, Haddock), covered in chains, padlocks, cash-boxes and steel purses, appears. Scrooge attempts a smile.

SCROOGEJacob? Is that you?

Dickens looks at Scrooge.

DICKENSYou know him?


43

SCROOGEMy business partner. Last I saw him, he was dead as a doornail.

The ghost gives out a dreadful howl.

MARLEYBusiness! Mankind was my business! The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. But I did none of these.

SCROOGEHe was never one for a straight answer.

The ghost gives another howl.

DICKENSCome in, I pray you.

Marley clanks into the room, dragging his chains.

DICKENS (CONT’D)You are in chains. Tell me why.

MARLEYI wear the chain I forged in life. I made it link by link, and yard by yard. I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.

DICKENSIndeed.

MARLEYIs its pattern strange to you?

Dickens starts to write.

DICKENS.... strange to you....

MARLEYOr would you know the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself?

Dickens looks up. Marley is staring straight at him. Dickens takes a careful step towards Marley.

DICKENSYou mean him, surely.


44

Marley leans towards him, confidentially. He walks around Dickens, circling him with a loose chain.

MARLEYChains man, all around you. Past... and present... and what is to come.

Dickens stares at him, his mind racing. And with that, Marley pulls the loose chain tight around Dickens.

FLASHBACK:

INT. DICKENS FAMILY HOME - NIGHT39 39

The children crowd around the Christmas table. Mr. Dickens at the head, in a richly patterned waistcoat.

A cheer goes up as Mrs. Dickens, sets a large turkey down on the table. Mr. Dickens holds up his hands for silence. He intones.

MR. DICKENSHail to thee blithe turkey. Whose exquisite odours now perfume the circumambient air. So let this day be fragrant with the love we bear each other. And may God bless us everyone.

He winks at YOUNG CHARLES, who stares up at him with adoration.

YOUNG CHARLES....every one.

Suddenly, the door flies open. A BAILIFF fills the door frame, accompanied by two burly Deputies.

BAILIFFMr. John Dickens?

MR. DICKENSThat is my name.

BAILIFFCome with me.

MR. DICKENSWhat is the meaning of this termagant breach of our Yuletide feast?

BAILIFFEh?


45

MR. DICKENSWhat is the matter?

BAILIFFThe matter is a debt of some forty pounds and ten shillings. Fourteen months in arrears.

The bailiff holds out a set of handcuffs.

BAILIFF (CONT’D)If you please.

The deputies enter the room, and start loading household goods onto a cart, furniture, silverware, books, anything they can get their hands on.

MR. DICKENSGentlemen! Please! This is all a misunderstanding. A circumstance of great moment to me is to be decided in the ensuing term —

Young Charles bursts into tears.

YOUNG CHARLESTell them to stop. Tell them to stop!

A handcuffed Mr. Dickens is helpless to comfort him. As he struggles to reach Charles, he knocks the magic lantern and it falls, shattering on the ground.

INT. DICKEN STUDY- MORNING40 40

Dickens wakes with a start. He is lying on the couch. He looks around. The room is empty.

EXT. ST. JAMES PARK - DAY41 41

Dickens marches along the foot path, with Forster struggling to keep up.

DICKENSWhat about Leech? For the illustrations.

FORSTERLeech? He’s so prickly. And by no means the cheapest—

DICKENSI don’t want the cheapest–


46

FORSTER–Charles. For God’s sake, slow down. You move at railway speed.

Dickens slows down slightly.

DICKENSI want the best.

FORSTERIt’s going well then?

DICKENSWhat?

FORSTERThe book.

DICKENSBrilliant. Best thing I’ve ever done.

FORSTERSo you’re--

DICKENSI have eleven pages.

FORSTER– Eleven?

DICKENSIf it weren’t for the constant interruptions – you know my father’s staying with us?

FORSTEROh.

DICKENSIndeed. He could not have come at a worse time–

Forster is distracted by the sight of a pretty young woman (CHARLOTTE WIGMORE, age 25) walking by with a CHAPERONE.

FORSTEROh!

Charlotte’s face lights up at the sight of Forster. Her companion turns her around to walk the other way.

DICKENSWho was that?


47

FORSTERCharlotte.

DICKENSWho?

FORSTERMy fiancee. I told you--

DICKENSFiancee?

FORSTERShe’s a canny lass, is she not?

DICKENSIndeed, most amiable.

FORSTERAmiable? Why man, she’s an angel, a sylph, a– I don’t know what.

Suddenly Forster bursts into tears. Dickens stares at him, perplexed.

DICKENSWhatever is the matter?

FORSTERCharlotte and I — have come to a parting of the ways.

DICKENSI thought you said you were engaged—

FORSTERWere. Her father had no intention for her to marry the son of a Gateshead butcher.

Dickens tries to think what to say.

DICKENSPerhaps its for the best. The life matrimonial... it’s not for everyone, old stick.

Forster manfully masters his emotions.

FORSTERNo doubt. No doubt.

Forster blows his nose.


48

FORSTER (CONT’D)So... Leech?

DICKENSThat’s the ticket.

INT. LEECH'S STUDIO - DAY42 42

Dickens and Forster visit LEECH, an eccentric-looking man, with hair like a rooster. Forster studies the framed cartoons on the wall as Dickens describes his vision to Leech.

DICKENSFour wood cuts and four etchings. The cover in red. Hand-coloured. The title in rustic writing. The end papers to be green and all three edges to be gilded.

LEECHGilded? That will cost you.

DICKENSIt must be exquisite. That’s why we came to you.

LEECHYou’ll have to sell every copy to make your money back.

DICKENSThat is my intention, Mr. Leech.

Leech purses his lips together.

LEECHHave you brought the manuscript?

DICKENSI’ll have something for you in a week.

LEECHA week? That leaves only four weeks to do the illustrations and get it to the printers in time for Christmas.

DICKENSCan you do it?

LEECHMr. Dickens. I am not a hired hand. I am an artist. What you are asking is impossible.


49

DICKENSImpossible for an ordinary man, yes. But you are no ordinary man, Mr. Leech. You are a genius.

Leech draws himself up like a poker.

LEECHFifty pounds. Paid in advance. Plus more for the plates.

Dickens hesitates.

DICKENSDone.

Forster passes his hand over his face as Dickens heads for the door.

FORSTERCharles–

EXT. LONDON STREET - DAY43 43

Forster confronts Dickens on the street outside Leech’s studio.

FORSTERLook, Charles, I don’t mean to be the voice of doom but before we lay out money for illustrations, we should consider what happens if you don’t finish on time.

DICKENSI will finish on time.

Forster doesn’t have the heart to pursue it.

FORSTERQuite.

EXT. DICKENS HOUSE -DAY44 44

Dickens arrives home. The door is open. A workman stands by it, perplexed by the missing door knocker.

INT. DICKENS HALLWAY - DAY45 45

Dickens steps in. Mrs. Fisk takes his hat.

DICKENSThank you—

Signor Mazzini is fixing the chandelier.


50

SIGNOR MAZZINIMr. Dickens. I fix. See?

DICKENSYes. Grazie, Mr. Mazzini.

SIGNOR MAZZINIIs no problem. No problem! Only twelve guineas extra!

There is a sound of LAUGHTER in the parlour above. Dickens turns to Mrs. Fisk.

DICKENSI thought my father was off to the British library.

MRS. FISKIt’s your sister, sir. Come from Manchester with her little boy.

INT. PARLOUR - CONTINUOUS46 46

Dickens’ sister FANNY (mid-thirties, pretty but faded) is on the floor, with her young son, HENRY JR, and all the Dickens children, playing with a toy theatre. Henry’s father, the REVEREND HENRY BURNETT looks on, beaming.

DICKENSFanny!

Fanny glances up.

FANNYCharlie!

She jumps up to embrace her brother.

DICKENSHenry. How are you?

Dickens shakes the Reverend Henry’s hand.

REVEREND HENRYVery well, grace be to God.

Dickens smiles at his nephew on the floor.

DICKENSMaster Henry. I hardly recognize you. How old are you now?

Henry struggles to his feet, with the help of a crutch.


51

YOUNG HENRYNine, if you please sir.

He coughs, violently.

DICKENSNine. Is it possible?

Tara enters, a little shyly.

TARAExcuse me, sir. The children’s tea is ready in the dining room.

REVEREND HENRYCome on, then young ‘un.

The Reverend puts Young Henry on his shoulders, and follows Tara and the other children out the door and down the stairs.

Fanny watches them go.

FANNYThere goes my heart.

DICKENSWhat did the doctor say?

FANNY He says we have to wait and see.

DICKENSFanny. Won’t you let me help?

FANNYWe’ll manage.

DICKENSAt least until Henry gets a new position?

FANNYSomething will turn up. I’m sure of it.

DICKENSYou sound like father.

She smiles.

FANNYHow is the old reprobate?

Dickens adopts their father’s tone of voice.


52

DICKENS“This morning I had twenty-five shillings in my hand and now...

He holds out his hands.

DICKENS (CONT’D)“Observe the vacancy.”

They laugh.

FANNYHe means no harm.

DICKENSIt’s not enough. He bobs along like a cork on the surface of life, no thought for the future--

Fanny puts her hand on his arm.

FANNYCharlie. Let it go, can’t you?

MR. DICKENS (O.S.)Abaft, you scurvy pirates!

Dickens and Fanny crack open the door. Mr. Dickens, has just arrived home, Young Henry at his side. The children are crowded around him, rummaging in his pockets for gifts as he shouts, uproariously.

MR DICKENSBrail up your capstan-bar! Sheepshank your mizzen! Full speed ahead!

She smiles.

KATEFor all his faults, you won’t find a kinder man.

Dickens sighs.

DICKENSHow long he is growing up to be one.

INT. DICKENS BEDROOM - NIGHT47 47

Dickens wakes up with a start. Scrooge is standing over him, with a candle.


53

DICKENS(whispers)

Why are you here?

SCROOGEYou’d better come and see who’s turned up.

Beside him, in bed, Kate stirs.

KATECharles?

Dickens puts his finger to his lips.

DICKENSJust a touch of indigestion... Go back to sleep.

Dickens and Scrooge creep out.


54


Dickens and Scrooge stare at a ghostly figure (looking a good deal like Tara), dressed in white, wearing a wreath on her head. She stands by the window where the muslin curtains float eerily around her in the wind.

SCROOGETell him who you are.

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PASTI am the Ghost of Christmas Past.

The Ghost gestures towards the window.

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST (CONT’D)Follow.

SCROOGEIt’s awfully late and I’m not quite dressed.

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST Follow.

Scrooge draws back.

SCROOGENot bloody likely.

DICKENSWhy?

SCROOGEMucking around in the past? What’s the point?

DICKENSYou might learn something.

SCROOGEI already know everything I need to know.

(to the Ghost)Take him, why don’t you?

DICKENSMe?

SCROOGEIf you’re so keen.

The ghost turns her gaze to Dickens.


55

DICKENSIt’s not about me.

SCROOGEYou’re the author aren’t you?

Dickens looks at the ghost, fearful. He doesn’t move. The Ghost turns to look at the slightly ajar window, which now SLAMS wide open.

EXT. WARREN’S BLACKING FACTORY - NIGHT49 49

Young Charles holds his father’s hand tightly, through the bars of a bailiff’s van, trying to keep from crying. The rest of the family are huddled together behind his father in the van.

MR. DICKENSDon’t cry, Charlie. We’ll be back for you before you know it.

YOUNG CHARLESBut why can’t I stay with you?

MR. DICKENSYou’re a big boy now, Charlie. Youneed to help out. You’ll see.

(MORE)


55A

It will be an adventure. You’ll hardly think of us at all.

Behind him, the bailiff climbs on board the van.

BAILIFF Time to go.

Young Charles starts to cry.

MR. DICKENSNow, sir, enough of that. Stand up tall. Blood of iron, heart of ice.

The van starts to move off. Young Charles lets go of his father’s hands.

MR. DICKENS (CONT’D)(shouting back)

Remember: you are the son of John Dickens. A Gentleman. You be sure and tell them that!

The van disappears around the corner. The boy turns and looks with dread at the old, tumbledown building, beneath the sign WARRENS BLACKING: “The Pride of Mankind”. A door opens spilling some light.

YOUNG CHARLES(trying to gather strength)Blood of iron, heart of ice.

INT. BEDROOM - MORNING (PRESENT)50 50

Dickens is in bed, tossing in his sleep. Kate comes in, dressed for the day. Dickens awakes with a start.

KATEGood morning.

She bustles about the room.

DICKENSWhat? Oh. Yes.

KATEYou were tossing and turning all night, you know.

DICKENSBad dreams.

KATEWhat about?

MR. DICKENS (CONT'D)


56

He shakes his head.

DICKENSI don’t know. Shadows. Nothing more.

KATEA little daylight will cure you.

She throws open the curtains.

INT/EXT. MARKET - DAY51 51

A theatre curtain is pulled aside to reveal a puppet show, performing to a watching crowd in the COVERED market. All is bustle and colour.

Dickens wanders amongst the stalls overflowing with brightly coloured goods, tin pans, second-hand clothes, baskets of chestnuts, pears and apples, piles of filberts.

Suddenly, a figure is there, tugging on his sleeve. It’s Scrooge.

SCROOGEI trust we’ll have no more of that.

Dickens is taken aback.

DICKENSOf --?

SCROOGEThe past. A lot of nonsense. Onward.

Scrooge flinches as a couple of CHILDREN run screaming by them.

DICKENSWere you never a child, Mr. Scrooge?

SCROOGEI don’t recall. Come on, we’re wasting time. We should be working.

DICKENSI am working.

SCROOGEHere?

DICKENSI’m gathering inspiration.


57

SCROOGEGathering... what??

Dickens gestures.

DICKENSWhat do you see? When you look around?

SCROOGEA market.

DICKENSWhat else?

He points to various people in the market: A PIEMAN with his arms laden with pie cans, yelling:

PIEMANPies all’ot! Eel, beef, or mutton pies! Penny Pies, all’ ot!

SCROOGEBuyers and sellers.

DICKENSWhat else?

A Cockney SCAM ARTIST, doing a patter.

SCAM ARTIST....Three thimbles and one little pea- with a one, two, three, and a two, three, one, catch him who can, look on, keep your eyes open and niver say die!

SCROOGEThieves and ruffians.

As they step out from the “souk” into the open air street market, He points to A YOUNG COUPLE, lost in admiration of each other. A NEWSAGENT, calling out:

NEWSAGENTTimes, gen’l’mn, Times! Highly Interesting murder, gen’l’mn,

A FIDDLER, plays a tune and a BUTCHER calls out.

BUTCHERClear away! Clear away, lads!


58

He tosses the fiddler a coin, catches up his WIFE and starts to dance. Dickens laughs with pleasure, then looks at Scrooge, who shrugs.

DICKENSLife, Mr. Scrooge! London! The great theatre of the world! It’s all here!

SCROOGEHumbug.

DICKENSYou say that a lot.

SCROOGEI’m a man of facts and calculations. Realities, not fancy... Not-- not-- what the devil is that?--

Dickens and Scrooge stare at a strange sight: a PAPIER MACHE BOTTLE is toddling along the street. When the bottle reaches Dickens, a hand pops out of it, and thrusts a flyer in his hand: an advertisement for Warren’s Blacking.

Dickens is frozen for a moment, unnerved. He takes off in the other direction.

DICKENSMust go.

SCROOGEWhere to?

DICKENS(over his shoulder)

Back to work.

INT. DICKENS HOUSE. DINING ROOM - NIGHT52 52

The family are at the dinner table waiting to eat. Mr. Dickens entertains the children, making them giggle.

MR. DICKENSPapa... potatoes... poultry... and prunes... are all very good words for the lips.

At the other end of the table, Mrs. Dickens reminisces for Kate’s benefit.


59

MRS. DICKENSAnd oh, the parties.... We used to keep such hours! Balls, dinners— champagne—

Mr. Dickens ties his napkin around his head, winks at the children. The children giggle.


59A

KATEWell, it looks as if Charles won’t be joining us this evening. Again. We may as well begin.

Mr. Dickens has already begun.

MR. DICKENSFirst rate capon, Mrs. Fisk.

MRS. FISKThank you sir. I’ll let the cook know.

MRS. DICKENS...and the chairs had turned legs with green chintz squabs to match the curtains.

At that moment, Dickens appears in the doorway.

DICKENSWhat story is that, Mother?

Mrs. Dickens reddens.

MRS. DICKENSI was only telling Kate about the dining room set we used to have. Rosewood. In the most approved taste.

DICKENSYou mean, the one we pawned?

An awkward silence.

MRS. DICKENSCharles. You are a satirical monster.

Kate is bewildered.

KATEIs that a joke, dear?

DICKENSNot a very amusing one.

Mrs. Dickens examines her hands, mortified. An awkward silence. Dickens turns a cold eye on his father.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Is that a new waistcoat father?


60

MR. DICKENSEh? What? Oh, yes. Persian crimson. It is a little more expensive, but I’ve always said, people will believe anything if you’re properly dressed.

Beat.

DICKENSKate. Will you ask Tara to bring up a tray with something on it?

KATEI’ll bring it up.

DICKENSNo! I need Tara to do it.

MR. DICKENSThat’s the spirit my boy. Procrastination is the thief of time, eh Charles. Collar him!

Dickens looks at him, but decides not to say anything.

MRS. FISKI’ll get her sir. Tara!

Mr. Dickens, unperturbed, digs into his food.

MR. DICKENSWe must never disturb the poet when the divine frenzy is upon him. I myself have suffered the same delirium. Often to the detriment of my health, as you know, my love.

INT. DICKENS STUDY - NIGHT53 53

Dickens is talking to himself in the mirror, like a mad man.

DICKENSKnow the place! Was I apprenticed here? Why it’s old Fezziwig!

Behind him, in the room, the FEZZIWIGS appear (the genial BUTCHER and his WIFE from the market). They start to dance.

FEZZIWIGClear away, lads! Clear away! It’s Friday night!

There is a knock on the door. The Fezziwigs freeze.


61

DICKENSWho is it?

TARA (O.S.)It’s Tara, sir. With your dinner.

Dickens throws open the door.

DICKENSTara. Come in. Come in.

He takes the tray from her.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Sit. I want to read you something.

TARAOh, I don’t think Mrs. Fisk—

DICKENSSkittleshins to Mrs. Fisk. Sit. Please.

She does.

INT. SITTING ROOM - NIGHT54 54

Kate sits alone and bored. Another evening without the company of her husband. She looks at the ceiling. The study above her.

OMIT55 55


Dickens is reading to Tara from the manuscript. She smiles lost in her imagination.

DICKENS ... in easy state upon this couch, there sat a jolly giant, who bore a glowing torch and held it up to shed its light on Scrooge as he came peeping round the corner.

TARAThe second ghost!

The lights in the room slowly brighten, revealing the GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT (bearing a strong resemblance to Forster in a beard), seated high up on a throne, amidst a cornucopia of apples and oranges and pears, chestnuts, mistletoe and holly. Around him in a circle, various other CHARACTERS from the book, stare up in rapt attention.


62

The Ghost laughs as he sees Scrooge approach, shielding his eyes from the bright light.

SCROOGEWho are you?

The ghost laughs.

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENTI am the Ghost of Christmas present. Come closer man and know me better.

Scrooge fearfully climbs the library steps.

SCROOGEExcuse me, but -- why all this- produce?

The Ghost laughs again.

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENTThese are the gifts of abundance, of good will and generosity.

SCROOGEEh?

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENTOf course you wouldn’t understand much about that, would you? Unlike these good people.

The Ghost of Christmas Present points towards the hearth, where the CRATCHIT FAMILY including BOB (looking a good deal like Henry Burnett Sr.), and TINY TIM (a paler, more fragile version of Henry) are seated round a table, staring joyfully at a very modest Christmas dinner of mashed potatoes, apple sauce, gravy, and a very small roasted goose.

CRATCHITMy dear Mrs. Cratchit. You have outdone yourself this year.

Mrs. Cratchit beams, and looks around at her children.

MRS. CRATCHITEveryone pitched in. Even Tim.

Tim points to the mismatched cups and plates.

TINY TIMI set the table!

Cratchit lifts his glass.


63

CRATCHITA Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. And may God bless us.

TINY TIMGod bless us every one!

Tiny Tim’s little body is racked with coughs. Cratchit picks him up in his arms.

Scrooge stares at Tiny Tim, moved.

SCROOGEI didn’t know Cratchit had a crippled son.

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT Didn’t you ever think to ask?

SCROOGEHe’s my clerk. I don’t pay him to tell me about his personal life.

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENTYou hardly pay him at all.

SCROOGEFifteen shillings a week.

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENTFor a man with a family? Not too mention a sick child.

SCROOGEThat is the market rate.

The ghost bristles.

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENTDo you really believe that every inch of existence is a bargain across the counter?

SCROOGEI-- I-

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENTObserve this family. They don’t have much, and yet they’re happy, grateful and contented with the time. Whereas you are miserable and content with nothing.


64

SCROOGEI never heard such folly.

A clock in the room strikes the hour.

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT

Heed well what I have said. Farewell.

SCROOGENo. Wait–

DICKENS (O.S.)Intermission.

The characters spontaneously applaud as Scrooge and the Ghost take a bow.

MRS. FEZZIWIGThrilling performance.

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENTThat’s very kind.

MR. FEZZIWIGWhere did you train?

A clock in the room strikes the hour. The lights start returning to normal. The characters disappear.

Dickens turns over the last page of the manuscript.

DICKENSAnd that’s as far as I’ve got.

Tara stirs herself, like one awaking from a sleep.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Tara?


65

She nods, still half in a dream, then turns back.

TARAHow do you do that, sir?

DICKENSWhat, Tara?

TARAMake a world, come alive.... I could almost see and hear them people.

She drifts out the door.

TARA (CONT’D)Especially that Tiny Tim. The poor mite

Dickens pleased his writing has affected someone so much, turns to see Scrooge, jolting him out of his reverie.

SCROOGEA word in your ear.

Dickens is wary.

DICKENSAbout?

SCROOGEThe scene. It’s very one-sided-

DICKENSOne-sided?

SCROOGEMy character doesn’t get to explain his side of things. I’ve taken the liberty of writing a speech -

DICKENSNo.

SCROOGE-- something about the rational self-interest and the natural tendency of free markets--

DICKENSNo. No. And no.


66

Scrooge scowls.

SCROOGEWhat kind of book is this, anyway?

Dickens sweeps out of the room.

OMIT56A 56A

INT. LEECH'S STUDIO - DAY57 57

Dickens and Forster study a sketch that Leech has done.

DICKENSNo! Too gloomy. The Ghost of Christmas Present should be wonderful. Warm. Jolly.

LEECHJolly.

DICKENSYes.

LEECHA jolly ghost.

DICKENSThat’s it.

Leech goes to a cabinet and counts out fifty pounds in cash.

DICKENS (CONT’D)What’s this?

LEECHI am returning your money.

FORSTER—My dear Mr. Leech—

LEECHFind another artist.

DICKENSWe don’t want another artist.

LEECHA jolly Christmas ghost? What does that mean? I can’t draw what I don’t understand!


67

DICKENSWell, he’s — he’s everything that’s best about Christmas. He’s the soul of kindness and generosity, he’s-

He glances at Forster.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Forster.

FORSTEREh?

CUT TO:

INT. LEECH’S STUDIO - LATER58 58

Forster, dressed in a sheet, open to his navel, and holding a lamp aloft, poses uncomfortably while Dickens applies makeup to his cheeks.

Leech waits to sketch him.

EXT. LONDON/HATCHARD’S - NIGHT59 59

Dickens is stopped outside of Hatchard’s. In the store window a sign advertises “A New Christmas Book by Mr. Dickens. Order Now and Avoid Disappointment.” Dickens peers through the window lost in thought.

Suddenly, a POSSE of Characters from the book appears behind him, Scrooge amongst them, staring in at the window.

SCROOGE(to Cratchit)

In stores by Christmas? That will be a miracle.

The posse sniggers.

DICKENSGo away.

SCROOGEThree flops in a row. Up to your eyeballs in debt. I’d think you’d be glad of some advice.

The POSSE nods in agreement.

DICKENSAll right. I’ve had a few flops, what of it? I’m still young. It’s not as if I--


68

Suddenly the surrounding area falls into darkness as the gas lamps dim one by one. Scrooge turns pale as shadows take over the street. Dickens turns to see the POSSE and SCROOGE staring at a dark STATUE across the road.

Slowly the statue comes to life, its robes float eerily in the wind, giving form to a terrifying Phantom, its face obscured by a hood. (The GHOST OF CHRISTMAS YET-TO-COME). Dickens and Scrooge exchange fearful looks.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Are we in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?

The Spirit nods.

SCROOGE(to Dickens)

Why doesn’t he speak?

DICKENSShhh.

(to Ghost)You are here to show us the shadows of the things that have not happened but will happen, is that so?

The Spirit slowly raises a shrouded arm and points down the street, the giant shadow of its finger comes to a stop at a small door.

SCROOGE(whispering to Dickens)

Where does it want us to go?

DICKENSI think I know.

With that he heads towards the door, SCROOGE and the POSSE following.

SCROOGEI have a bad feeling about this.

DICKENS (O.S.)They entered poor Bob Cratchit’s house and found the mother and the children seated round the fire.

INT. STUDY/CRATCHIT HOUSE - LATER IN NIGHT60 60

Mrs. Cratchit and the children, dressed in black, huddle together by the fire. Tiny Tim is not among them. We see his lonely crutch leaning against the fireplace.


69

DICKENS (V.O.)Then Bob came in the door.

MRS. CRATCHITYou went today, then Robert? To the cemetery?

Cratchit struggles to be cheerful as he enters the room.

CRATCHITYes, my dear. I wish you could have gone to see how green a place it is. But you’ll see it often. I promised him that I would walk there on a Sunday.

He smiles through his tears.

CRATCHIT (CONT’D)My little child. My little, little child!

His voice cracks and he covers his eyes.

TARAOh no!

The characters freeze. Scrooge shoots a look over his shoulder, TO REVEAL THE SCENE IS TAKING PLACE IN DICKENS STUDY

SCROOGERude!

Tara has been listening to the story, her eyes wide with emotion.

TARAIs Tiny Tim dead?

SCROOGEOf course he is. Imbecile.

DICKENS(gently)

He was very ill.

SCROOGEYou can’t save every child in London.

DICKENSAnd the family has no money for a doctor.


70

Tara is becoming upset.

TARAThen Scrooge must save him.

Scrooge is taken aback.

SCROOGEMe?

Dickens looks from one to the other.

DICKENSBut he wouldn’t-

TARAWhy?

DICKENSHe’s too selfish.

TARAHe can change. There’s good in him somewhere, I know it.

Scrooge rolls his eyes.

SCROOGEPeople don’t change.

DICKENSHe’s been this way for a long time. I’m not sure he can change.

TARAOf course he can. He’s not a monster.

DICKENSI don’t - he isn’t -

SCROOGEThought this was a ghost story. Not a fairy tale.

TARAHe wouldn’t let Tiny Tim die, Mr. Dickens. He has a heart, doesn’t he? It would be too wicked. Even for him.

Dickens stares at them a moment, now plagued with doubt.

FLASHBACK


71

INT. WARREN’S BLACKING - CONTINUOUS 60A 60A

Inside the noisy, squalid factory, Young Charles is led by a Foreman to a score of pale-faced, miserable-looking CHILDREN, all of them busy pasting labels on bottles or packing them in casks.

FOREMANBoys. This here is Charlie Dickens. And what was it you was just telling me, lad? About your Dad?

Young Charles draws himself up proudly.

YOUNG CHARLESMy father is a gentleman.

The boys jeer. Young Charles flushes with embarrassment.

One of the boys, POLL, calls out.

POLLWhere is he, then? Dining with the queen?

Another boy calls out.

BOYI ‘eard he’s in the stone jug.

FOREMANHush, you lot. Where’s your manners?

The Foreman addresses him with elaborate politeness.

FOREMAN (CONT’D)Master Dickens. Perhaps you would be so good as to join us at work? If you’ve nothing better to do?

The Foreman thrusts him down hard onto the work bench. Young Charles looks around, miserable, at his surroundings.

FOREMAN (CONT’D)No shirking here.

A rat scuttles nearby, to reveal a sheer drop to the giant blacking VATS below. Poll sits down beside him and hisses at him.


72

POLLYou’re no better than me, cocker. You’d best learn that.

BACK TO


72A

INT. DICKEN STUDY - NIGHT61 61

Dickens sits at his desk. He looks at the clock. It’s the middle of the night. He once again goes through his ritual of straightening everything on his desk.

He tidies his manuscript, picks up his pen, dips it in ink, then stares at the paper.

There is a racket in the hallway outside the door.

MR. DICKENS (O.S.)'Tis now the very witching time of night,

MRS. DICKENS (O.S.)Shhh, dear.

Mr. and Mrs. Dickens are in the hallway outside the door.

MR. DICKENS (O.S.)When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out—

Scrooge appears.

SCROOGEShakespeare. Now there’s a man who could write. I doubt he ever had a blockage.

MR. DICKENS (O.S.)Now could I drink hot blood!

Dickens grips his hair in frustration.

SCROOGE(egging dickens on)

Self-preservation is the first law of nature. That’s just a fact.

Dickens throws open the door to find Mr. Dickens, drunkenly negotiating the stairs with the help of Mrs. Dickens.

MRS. DICKENSThat’s right dear. Just a few more steps.

MR. DICKENS“Oh, heart lose not thy nature; let not ever the soul of Nero--

Mr. Dickens sees Charles and attempts to regain his posture.


73

MR. DICKENS (CONT’D)Oh. Good evening, Charles.


73A

Mrs. Dickens is a little afraid of her son.

MRS. DICKENSWe’ll get him straight into bed, Charles, dear. We were up the river to Kew and I think perhaps it was too long a day.

DICKENSKew! What about your newspaper article?

MR. DICKENSArticle?

DICKENSThe one you’re writing on the Bank Charter Act? It’s been over a month.

Mr. Dickens shifts, uncomfortably.

MR. DICKENSOh, that. As it happens, the editor was not able to— that is to say— due to pecuniary involvements of a complicated nature— he found it necessary to— to cancel the commission.

DICKENSSo. No newspaper article.

MR. DICKENSHowever, I rejoice to say that I have every hope of something turning up —

Dickens sees Scrooge hovering behind him, scowling.

DICKENSI think it’s time you went back to Devon, Father.

Beat.

MR. DICKENSIndeed.

DICKENSAs soon as possible.

MR. DICKENSOf course, dear boy. We shall catch the afternoon train tomorrow.


74

He stumbles and nearly falls, but is caught by Tara.

MR. DICKENS (CONT’D)(with dignity)

Thank you, my dear. Here--

He fumbles in his pocket for a coin.

MR. DICKENS (CONT’D)Let me give you something for your trouble.

TARAThat’s all right, sir.

MR. DICKENSYou’re very kind.

They move away.

MR. DICKENS (CONT’D)(to Tara)

No-one is useless in this world who lightens the burden of another. Remember that, Tara.

TARAI will, sir.

Mrs. Dickens gives Dickens a reproachful look.

MRS. DICKENSDon’t be hard on him, Charlie. You don’t know what he’s been through.

DICKENSDon’t I?

MRS. DICKENSHe feels it all, you know. He would never tell you, but he feels it all.

MR. DICKENS (O.S.)Ride on! Ride on over all obstacles and win the race!

Dickens turns back to his study. Scrooge is smug.

SCROOGEThat’s it. Blood of iron, heart of ice. Now maybe we can finish this thing.


75

Off Dickens his face. Lost.

CUT TO:

OMIT62 62

OMIT63 63

OMIT64 64

INT. STUDY - DAY65 65

Dickens sits at his desk, staring straight ahead.

In the room, the characters (including Cratchit, Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig), lounge around, like actors on a break. Some knitting or doing the crossword. Dickens picks up a pen, and the characters look up hopefully.

DICKENSAll right, let’s run it again. From the scene with Scrooge’s debtors.


75A

The characters groan. Scrooge, lying on the chaise, looks over with disdain.

SCROOGEWhat’s the point?

DICKENSThe point?

SCROOGEWe keep stopping at the same place.

DICKENSBecause I’m working out the ending.

SCROOGEAdmit it. You’re blocked.

DICKENSI’m not blocked.

SCROOGENow if you’d take my advice--

DICKENSI am the author here.

SCROOGE(mutters)

Allegedly.

Beat.

DICKENSI’m going out.

All the characters get to their feet.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Alone!

The characters fall back, silent.

INT. GARRICK CLUB - DAY66 66

Dickens finds Forster at a table, scribbling in a notebook.

DICKENSForster. I need your help.

Forster grabs his coat in alarm.

FORSTERWhat is it? The children?


76

DICKENSWhat? No. The children are fine.

Forster sits back down. Dickens glances at the notebook Forster has been writing in.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Candle/scandal... flirt/hurt... Charlotte/Poor heart. My God, is it a poem? It’s atrocious. What’s got into you?

Forster rushes to snatch the paper away.

FORSTERYou look terrible. Is something wrong?

DICKENSIt’s the book. I’m having trouble with one of the characters.

He looks out the window again where the entire CAST OF CHARACTERS from the book are standing, looking up at him.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Several of them, actually.

FORSTERWhat exactly is the problem?

Dickens picks away at Forster’s dinner.

DICKENS CONT’D)The problem is, could a man as mean-spirited, as evil as Scrooge— could he become a different person overnight?

FORSTERWhat is so evil about him?

DICKENSWell, he’s a miser.

FORSTERThat doesn’t make him evil. It just makes him cheap.

DICKENSNo, but he worships money. It’s the only thing that matters to him.

FORSTERWhy?


77

DICKENSBecause... he has nothing else.

FORSTERNo friends? No family?

DICKENSNo-one he trusts.

FORSTERWhy?

DICKENSI suppose he’s afraid—

FORSTEROf?

Dickens struggles to answer.

DICKENSOf- being found out.

FORSTERWhat?

THACKERAY (O.S.)Hullo, chaps.

Thackeray appears at the table.

FORSTERThackeray.

THACKERAYCharles! Haven’t seen anything of yours in print for ages. Don’t tell me you have a blockage!

DICKENSNot in the least. I’m neck and heels into a Christmas book!

Thackeray is flummoxed.

THACKERAYWhat the deuce is that?

DICKENSA story about Christmas. For Christmas.

THACKERAYA story about—? Ha ha! How amusing... Well.

(MORE)


78

Best of luck with it! Oh! Did you hear? My last book has come out in a Railway edition. Sold ten thousand copies. In one week! “There’s gold in them thar hills” as your American friends would say.

He wafts away. Dickens and Forster exchange looks.

FORSTERLet’s go somewhere else and get a real drink.

EXT. THE GREEN HOG - NIGHT67 67

Forster and Dickens stumble out of a bar, laughing. Forster sings, in a thick North Country accent—

FORSTER“She's a big lass, she's a bonny lass, an she likes her beerAn I call her Cushie Butterfield an I wish she was here.”

DICKENSWhat language is that?

FORSTERI am a Geordie! And we are Gods!

Dickens gapes around him in confusion.

DICKENSWhere are we?

FORSTERHungerford Stairs. Phew. Smell the river? What’s that?

Dickens recoils at the sight of the Warren’s Blacking Factory looming out of the swirling fog.

DICKENS(bitterly)

A grave yard.

FORSTERIt’s the old Warren’s Factory. I wonder they haven’t torn it down yet.

DICKENSOr burnt it. I might do it myself one night.

THACKERAY (CONT'D)


79

FORSTERWhy? What have you got against boot blacking?

Forster looks at a pale and sweaty Dickens.

FORSTER (CONT’D)Charles? What is it?

Dickens looks at Forster, a strange expression on his face.

DICKENSI -- I have this recurring nightmare.

FORSTEROh, nightmares. I have one where I’m being chased by a giant badger. What’s yours?

Beat.

DICKENSNever mind.

FORSTERRight. Time to go home.

DICKENSI can’t.

FORSTERWhy?

Dickens is becoming emotional.

DICKENSThe book - I can’t -- The characters - won’t do what I want. ... I’m afraid.

FORSTEROf what?

DICKENSThat if I don’t finish it, I’ll never write again.

FORSTERGo home, marra. Get some sleep.

DICKENS I don’t want to.


80

FORSTERDon’t be daft. Your wife will be worried sick.

DICKENSMy wife— doesn’t understand me—

Forster puts his arm heavily on his friend’s shoulder.

FORSTERI’ve got news for you, marra. None of us understand you! You’re a freak of nature. I’m exhausted spending two hours in your company. ...Go on home, now. It’s cowld, the night. Go home. I’ll see you in the morning.

He leaves. Dickens stares at the building. He takes a few drunken steps towards it, then turns and flees.

EXT. DICKENS HOUSE - NIGHT68 68

Dickens goes to let himself in the front door. He glances down and sees someone rooting through the dust bin. Dickens rushes down to the vagrant who is going through his rubbish.

DICKENSHere, you, what are you up to?

The man turns around.

MR. DICKENSHello, Charlie.

His father.

DICKENSFather? What are you doing here?

MR. DICKENSI - I had some business to attend to, so I thought I’d—

DICKENSYou just left town! What business could you possibly have—

Dickens notices the piece of paper in his hands and grabs it. It's a letter with his own signature on it, crumpled and discarded.

DICKENS (CONT’D)What were you going to do with that?


81

His father looks sheepish.

DICKENS (CONT’D)You were going to sell it, weren’t you?

MR. DICKENSIt's no good to you, is it?

DICKENSThis is what you’ve been doing? Going through the rubbish like a tramp? Selling bits and pieces of me. Is that your business? Look at me. Aren’t you ashamed?

Mr. Dickens doesn’t respond.

DICKENS (CONT’D)I bought you a house and furnished it myself. I give you an allowance. What more could you possibly need?

MR. DICKENSOh, reason not the need!

His voice rises.

MR. DICKENS (CONT’D)You see me here, you gods, a poor old man—

DICKENSNo. Stop.

Mr. Dickens can’t look his son in the eye.

MR. DICKENSYou don't know what it's like, Charlie. To be poor. To be nothing.

Dickens fury is incandescent—

DICKENSNot know? Not know? At eleven years old I was made to know it— Working twelve hours a day, going hungry, wandering the streets all alone and afraid—

Mr. Dickens attempts to respond, but is cut off by Dickens.


82

DICKENS (CONT’D)Because your father— who is supposed to care for you— is so utterly thriftless--

Mr. Dickens weeps.

MR. DICKENSDear boy. Don’t— I beg you.

DICKENSNo. You are not the victim here. This is about me. And Fanny. It’s about all of us. We’ve lived our whole lives in the shadow of your recklessness.

Dickens stares at his father, weeping in the street.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Go away. I’m sickened at the sight of you. You are nothing but a drag and chain upon my life. I owe you nothing. Go.

Dickens goes in the house and shuts the door firmly behind him. Then leans against it, breathing heavily.

INT. PARLOUR - NEXT DAY69 69

Forster, is listening while Dickens reads the manuscript aloud.

DICKENS“....Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of the things that May be only?’”

He looks up.

DICKENS (CONT’D)And that’s as far as I got.

Beat.

FORSTERIt’s brilliant.

DICKENSAre you pulling my leg?

FORSTERNo. I promise you.


83

DICKENSWell... that’s... encouraging—

FORSTERMy only criticism—

Forster stops himself.

DICKENSYes?

FORSTER—Tiny Tim—

Dickens stares at him.

DICKENSWhat about him?

FORSTERAre you really going to let him die?

DICKENSWhy? What’s the problem?

FORSTERWell, it’s a Christmas book. Shouldn’t it be hopeful? Isn’t that what Christmas is about? The hope that, in the end, our better natures will prevail?

Beat.

DICKENSYou were the one who made me kill off Little Nell.

FORSTERI stand by that decision.

DICKENSMy readers implored me—

FORSTERBut this is different. If Tiny Tim dies, then what’s the point?

DICKENSThis isn’t a fairy tale.


84

FORSTERAs mean as Scrooge is, he still has a heart. Doesn’t he deserve a second chance?

Beat.

DICKENSThank you, Forster—

FORSTERYou’re welcome—

DICKENS—for reminding me why I never ask your opinion on my work.

FORSTERYou ask me for my opinion all the time.

DICKENSYour services are no longer required.

FORSTERYou can’t sack me.

DICKENSWhy?

FORSTERBecause – I don’t work for you. I do what I do as a friend.

DICKENSGood day, Mr. Forster.

Forster gets to his feet, heavily.

FORSTERRight...

(turning back)See you Friday, will I?


The characters have taken over every inch of it. Cratchit and The Pieman, are drinking tea by the window. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig are playing cards. There’s an atmosphere of gloom.


85

A CHARWOMAN sits by the fire with her feet up on the hob. As Dickens enters the room she glances over at him with mild interest.

CHARWOMANWho’s that, then?

Scrooge, dozing on the sofa, opens an eye.


85A

SCROOGENobody. The author.

CHARWOMANNo wonder he looks so depressed.

Dickens picks up the manuscript and flips through it.

DICKENSAll right. That’s enough. Let’s get back to work.

SCROOGE(to Cratchit)

God bless us, everyone...

They titter together like children.

DICKENSWhy are you so miserable?

SCROOGEWhat else can I be, when I live in such a world of fools as this.

DICKENSMean-spirited, cynical –

SCROOGETake a look in the mirror sometime.

DICKENSMe?

SCROOGE“Is that a new candle, Kate?” “Your services are no longer required.” “I’m sickened at the sight of you.” Hypocrite.

A knock at the door stops him from replying. Dickens throws it open, furious. Tara is there with a cup of cocoa.

TARAPardon me, sir. Mrs. Dickens sent me —

DICKENSThis is intolerable.

Dickens calls down the hall.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Mrs. Fisk?


86

Mrs. Fisk appears.

MRS. FISKYes, sir?

DICKENSTake this child away from here and see that she doesn’t disturb me ever again. Do you hear me?

MRS. FISKYes, sir. Come on, girl.

Tara is mortified. Head down, she scurries down the stairs.

Back in the room, Scrooge raises his arms above his head in triumph.

SCROOGEYes! Banish her! Banish them all!

DICKENSBe quiet--

SCROOGEHumanity’s great benefactor? Humbug!

DICKENSShut it. Or I’ll make you bald. With bad teeth.

SCROOGEGo ahead. It won’t change a thing. You still won’t have an ending.

Scrooge crosses his arms defiantly. He looks at the others: they follow suit.

DICKENSThis is ridiculous. You’re all being ridiculous.

They continue to stare him down.

In a sudden movement, Dickens picks up the glass inkwell and throws it at the fireplace, where it shatters.

The room instantly empties of characters.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Come on then. Coward. Fight me. Fight me. Come out. If you be a man. Come out and fight!


87

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT71 71

Kate stares at the ceiling, as Dickens rails away in the study.

DICKENS (O.S.)Come out. If you be a man. Come out and fight!

She is clearly disturbed.

INT. DICKENS STUDY - MORNING 72 72

Dickens wakes with a start and looks around. The room is a disaster. Papers everywhere. Ink staining the wall.

His glance falls on the Penny Dreadful that Tara left behind, with its lurid cover of Varney the Vampire. He stares at it a moment.

DICKENSTara!

He goes to the door and bellows down the stairs.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Tara!

INT. DICKENS HOUSE. DINING ROOM - MORNING73 73

The children are at breakfast with Kate. Mrs Fisk is there too. The mood is sombre. Dickens appears, his clothes awry, full of an edgy energy.

DICKENSWhatever is the matter?

CHARLEYTara.

Charley bursts into tears.

DICKENSWhat about her?

CHARLEYShe’s gone.

DICKENSOn whose authority?


88

KATEYou asked Mrs. Fisk to take her away.

DICKENS(to Mrs Fisk)

Then go and search for her. Rehire her at once.

MRS. FISKAn Irish orphan in London? It would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.


88A

Dickens eyes blaze. He turns on Kate.

DICKENSWhy didn’t you stop her?

KATEHow was I to know you didn’t mean it? You said—

DICKENSI say a lot of things that are nonsense. It’s what happens when I’m working.

KATECharles.

DICKENSYou knew, when you married me, what I was like: how ideas take possession of me.

KATEI did. But you don’t know what it’s like to live with you, always walking on eggshells, trying to guess your mood, to know which of your commands is a whim and which is in earnest. Sometimes I think your characters matter more to you than your own flesh and blood.

DICKENSI am who I am.

KATEAnd who is that? It’s as if there are two of you, Charles. One that is good and kind, and a secret self, that no-one is allowed to know or question.

Dickens stares at her a moment, then storms out of the room.

INT. STUDY - DAY 73A 73A

Dickens, heads back into the study, distraught. He catches himself in the mirror. We hear sounds of squealing rats, quietly as first, but as they build up...

OMIT74 74

OMIT75 75

OMIT76 76


89

OMIT77 77

OMIT78 78

OMIT79 79

OMIT80 80

OMIT81 81

OMIT82 82

FLASHBACK:

INT. WARREN’S BLACKING FACTORY - DAY83 83

Young Charles is sitting at his bench, looking frail. His clothes are torn and dirty. His eyes are hollow. A ragged cough shakes his body.

Young Charles chants to himself, to keep from crying.

YOUNG CHARLESBlood of iron, heart of ice. Blood of iron, heart of ice. ...

POLL (O.S.)Got a present for the young gent’lmun. Seeing as it’s Christmas.

Young Charles, open his eyes to see one of the older boys, POLL, approaching, hands behind his back. In a sudden movement, he flings a DEAD RAT at him.

The other boys laugh.

With a howl of rage, Young Charles launches himself at Poll. But Poll easily pushes him away.

POLL (CONT’D)You’re no better than me, cocker, and you know it.

The other boys gather round to cheer as Poll commences pummelling Young Charles.

BACK TO:


90

INT STUDY - DAY 83A 83A

Dickens picks up the manuscript, then tosses it into the wastebasket in disgust.

Then abruptly storms out of the room, off to confront his demons.

OMIT84 84

EXT. WARRENS BLACKING FACTORY85 85

Dickens stands outside decrepit Warren’s Blacking Factory. Slowly, fearfully, he pulls a board off a door and peers inside.

INT. WARREN’S BLACKING FACTORY - NIGHT86 86

Dickens walks through the dusty, abandoned warehouse, remembering.

In his imagination, he hears the SOUNDS of SQUEAKING RATS. Of boys LAUGHING.

In the basement, he finds a low bench beneath the window on which are a few dusty POTS OF SHOE-BLACKING.

Scrooge materializes behind him holding a lamp.

SCROOGE‘ello, Charlie.

Dickens turns to see him.

SCROOGE (CONT’D)So. This is your miserable secret. The famous author, the inimitable Charles Dickens, was once a scabby little factory boy.

DICKENSLeave me be.

SCROOGEA common bit of riffraff, living on scraps, a squalid wretch of no worth to anyone—

Dickens lunges at Scrooge, grabbing at thin air, he falls to the ground, his face reflected across a broken mirror lying on the floor. Scrooge looms over Dickens.


91

SCROOGE (CONT’D)Look! What do you see there? Hmm? A nothing. A nobody. A debtor’s son. Who could ever care for you? Certainly not your father. He abandoned you.

Dickens struggles to his feet, putting distance between him and Scrooge.

DICKENSHe didn’t -- he -- It wasn’t his fault.

A rotten railing blocking his path. Dickens looks down at a sheer drop into a huge empty blacking vat below. The railing gives way, the squeal of a thousand rats disturbed by the falling woodwork.

SCROOGEHe failed you. Again and again. You said it yourself. Nothing but a drag and chain upon your life.

Dickens turn to look at the fall below. Dickens looks at Scrooge in horror.


92

DICKENSWho are you?

Scrooge advances on him, holding his lamp high, forcing Dickens to back up against the sheer drop.

SCROOGEYou know me, Charlie. I’m hunger. I’m cold. I’m darkness.... I’m the shadow on your thoughts, the crack in your heart, the stain on your soul... And I will never leave you.

Dickens holds up his hands as if to block Scrooge’s words.

DICKENSGo away.

SCROOGEBut we’re having such fun. (beat) People don’t change, Charlie.

DICKENSThey can. They do.


93

SCROOGELies. Look around. You’re still that scabby boy. No use to anyone. Just like your father.

DICKENS(enraged)

No...

Dickens take a sharp breath in. His eyes blaze.

DICKENS (CONT’D)“No one is useless in this world who lightens the burden of another.”

SCROOGEEh?

DICKENS(emboldened)

My father taught me that.

Scrooge turns to see an empty grave, with a blank HEADSTONE in the middle of the warehouse floor. Scrooge nervously edges towards it.

SCROOGE(confused)

Whose grave it that? There’s no name on the headstone.

DICKENSWhy should there be? The man to whom this grave belongs never made himself useful to anyone but himself. No friends. No family. Never felt love, or joy, or took any kind of pleasure in life... It’s time. Mr. Scrooge. We’ve come to the end--

Scrooge unnerved, turns back to Dickens only to see an earth wall where Dickens was stood.

Turning again and then again he realizes he is surrounded by earth walls. Looking up he sees the blank headstone. He realizes he is now inside the empty grave. Dickens appears above, framed by the blacking factory ceiling.

Suddenly the walls of the grave start closing in on Scrooge.

SCROOGEPlease. - I- don’t want to die like this, alone, unloved, forgotten.


94

DICKENSToo late.


94A

SCROOGENever too late! Oh, never too late. Please. I’ll change.

The grave walls keep closing.

SCROOGE (CONT’D)—- I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present and the Future. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach.

He looks directly at Dickens, imploring him.

SCROOGE (CONT’D)Give me another chance. I beg you. Let me do some good before I die.

The walls stop closing, a beat, then they start opening. Scrooge is delighted, laughing, crying as the walls pull back. He smiles, genuinely transformed. Dickens smiles back.

DICKENSAnd so we come to the last chapter.

Somewhere, a church bell CHIMES twelve o’clock. Dickens looks around, shocked to discover that the warehouse is empty and he is all alone. He lets out a sharp breath.

OMIT87 87

INT. DICKENS STUDY - NIGHT88 88

He enters taking a deep, steadying breath, then goes over to his desk and pulls out a new sheet of paper. He writes: “Stave Five: The End of It.”

INT. DICKENS STUDY - EARLY MORNING89 89

Early morning light filters in through the windows as Dickens bends over his writing, his pen SCRATCHING AWAY:

DICKENS (V.O.)Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim who did not die, he was a second father. And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless us every one!... The End.

Dickens bundles up the manuscript and rushes downstairs.


95

EXT/INT. DICKENS HOUSE - MORNING90 90

Dickens rushes to the front door, manuscript in hand. Kate appears in the doorway.

KATECharles? There’s someone here to see you.

DICKENSNot now, Kate. I have to get this to the printers before nine o’clock-

OMIT91 91

OMIT92 92

OMIT93 93

OMIT94 94

INT. PARLOUR - DAY 95 95

Tara is laughing and playing with the children.

DICKENSTara? How did you --

TARAIt were Mr. Dickens sir. He heard you were looking for me.

Dickens looks at Kate.

KATEYour father makes it his business to know things about people.

Tara hands him back his book, Aladdin.

TARAThank you for the loan.

DICKENSDid you like it?

Tara brightens.

TARAOh, yes, sir. It was fizzing.

This delights Dickens.


96

DICKENSFizzing! Delightful. You must read Robinson Crusoe next.

Tara looks at him, in surprise.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Tara. I’m sorry for sending you away. It was a mistake. Will you stay?

Tara nods, moved. Dickens smiles.

DICKENS (CONT’D)And by the way, you were right about Tiny Tim. He doesn’t die. Scrooge helps him to get better.

TARAOf course. And doesn’t he help Scrooge get better, too?

DICKENSHe does. He does, indeed.

Dickens looks at the mantelpiece, where a magic lantern is sitting.

DICKENS (CONT’D)Where did that come from?

KATEA gift. For the children. From your father.

DICKENSHe was here?

KATEYou can still catch him if--

Dickens hesitates, then stuffs the manuscript into his jacket as he rushes towards the door, turns around abruptly, grabs Kate and kisses her.

DICKENSKate--

KATEI know, you don’t deserve me. Go.

He rushes out of the house.


97

EXT. TRAIN STATION - DAY96 96

Outside the station, Dickens’ cab pulls up. He jumps out and dashes past an enterprising VENDOR who is attempting to interest the passersby in his selection of “Christmas trees”.

VENDOR...the very latest, the same as what’s in the Queen’s own drawing room...

INT. TRAIN STATION - DAY97 97

Dickens enters the station and sees his father and mother on the platform about to get on the train. He leaps over the barrier and runs towards them.

CONDUCTOR (O.S.)Last call. All aboard.

DICKENSStop!

A CONSTABLE sees him and blows his whistle.

CONSTABLEStop!

Mr. and Mrs. Dickens, just getting on the train, turn to see their son running along the platform.

DICKENSWhat do you think you are doing?

MRS. DICKENSPlease, dear. Don’t make a scene. We’re going away.

DICKENSOh, no you don’t.

CONSTABLEHi! You!

Mr. Dickens sees the Constable, rushing to catch up to them.

MR. DICKENSWhat have I done?

DICKENSDone? It’s what you haven’t done.

Mrs. Dickens flinches.


98

MR. DICKENSI don’t understand—

Dickens laughs, a touch maniacally.

DICKENSWho is going to carve the turkey?

(to his mother)Who is going to make the Christmas pudding? It won’t be the same without you?

Mrs. Dickens softens.

MRS. DICKENSOh, the pudding. The secret is to warm the treacle first.

Mr. Dickens turns to his wife.

MR. DICKENSThere you see, my dear? I told you something would turn up.

MRS. DICKENS(through tears)

You did, you did.

Dickens laughs again, joyfully. He embraces them warmly.

The Constable has finally caught up with them. His eyes widen in astonishment.

CONSTABLEYou’re that Charles Dickens.

DICKENSGuilty.

CONSTABLEI’m a huge fan.

DICKENSThank you.

CONSTABLEThat last one. Chuzzlewit. Wept like a baby, I did.

DICKENSWell, that’s very— What is your name, Constable?

CONSTABLEMy name? Copperfield, Sir.


99

Dickens whips out his notebook of names.

DICKENSCopperfield? Interesting.

CONSTABLEAny chance of a new book soon?

DICKENSEh?

Dickens suddenly pats his coat, remembering the Christmas Carol manuscript stuffed in his jacket. He pulls it out and rushes for a cab.

EXT TRAIN STATION - DAY97A 97A

Manuscript in hand , Dickens runs out of the train station, jumps in a cab.

DICKENSShoe Lane. And hurry.

EXT PRINTERS - DAY97B 97B

Dickens arrives at the printer, just as the clock is striking ten. Forster is waiting for him on the street.

FORSTERCharles. Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here for an hour.

DICKENSIt’s all right. I have the manuscript.

He pulls it out of his coat pocket. Several pages go flying in the wind.

DICKENS (CONT’D)No!

Forster and Dickens go chasing after the pages. A couple of PASSERSBY stop to help.

INT. PRINTERS - DAY97C 97C

Forster and Dickens run through the halls, past the noisy press room, past the bookbinding room, to the Composing room.

A cranky, ink-stained compositor (MR. GRUB) is just setting up when the two men arrive, out of breath, with the manuscript.


100

FORSTERMr. Grub! We’re here.


100A

The compositor starts and drops a line of type on the floor.

DICKENSI have the ending! You can finish it now.

MR GRUBIt’s too late.

FORSTERCome on. You’ve already printed the other four chapters. It’s just one more. Please.

Grub struggles with this.

MR GRUBI can’t guarantee anything.

DICKENSThank you. Thank you!

MR GRUB(sourly)

I didn’t say I could do it.

INT. GARRICK CLUB - DAY97D 97D

Dickens waits nervously. He straightens at the sight of Forster, making his way through the crowded room. Finally, he arrives at the table.

DICKENSWell? For God’s sake man, don’t prolong the agony.

Forster pulls out a package, wrapped in gold paper and tied with a bright red ribbon and hands it to Dickens.

Dickens opens it carefully. Inside is the book. The cover is red, the title stamped in gold: A Christmas Carol, By Charles Dickens. Dickens handles it with awe, turning the pages slowly.

DICKENS (CONT’D)It’s exactly as I’d imagined it.

THACKERAY (O.S.)Hello, gents. Extraordinary weather, isn’t it? Looks like snow.


101

DickensThackeray.

Thackeray holds up a galley copy of the Christmas Carol.

THACKERAYWhat’s this I have? Why, it’s your new book. I’m going to review it for this evening’s Spectator. I’m told you wrote it in only six weeks, Charles? What a prodigy you are!

Thackeray throws himself into a nearby armchair, opening the book with a flourish.

Dickens and Forster exchange looks.

INT. DICKENS HOUSE/PARLOUR - NIGHT98 98

Through the parlour windows we see the first Christmas snowfall. The gleaming new chandelier takes pride of place next to a Christmas tree as a splendid party is underway.

Fanny, Henry Sr. and Junior are there, watching as Mr. Dickens, dressed as a conjuror, does some magic tricks for Tara and the children. Mrs. Dickens chatters away to an uncomprehending Signor Mazzini. Mrs. Fisk has been into the punch.

MRS. FISK(humming to herself....)

Kate appears.

KATEGood heavens, what is that?

DICKENSThe Germans call it a Tannenbaum. Now that the royal family has one, it’s going to be all the rage.

Grip, the raven, flies onto a branch and eyes Mrs. Fisk.

GRIPHalloa, old girl. Halloa.

Forster arrives, a blushing Charlotte in tow.


102

KATEMiss Wigmore!

Charlotte holds up her hand to show off her engagement ring.

CHARLOTTEPapa had a change of heart.

Forster brandishes a newspaper.

FORSTERCharles, I think you’ll want to hear this. It’s by Thackeray.

DICKENSNot now please, Forster...

FORSTER(ignoring charles)“It was a blessed inspiration that put such a book into the head of Charles Dickens...a happy inspiration of the heart, that warms every page. It is impossible to read without a glowing bosom and burning cheeks, between love and shame of our kind....”

The group applauds. Smiling, Dickens holds up a glass of punch:

DICKENSLadies and gentlemen, boys and girls.

He smiles at Kate.

DICKENS (CONT’D)...and those on the way. A toast: I wish you all many merry Christmases, friendships, great accumulation of cheerful recollections and heaven at last for all of us.

At that moment, Grip sees an opportunity and flies up the staircase towards Dickens’ study. We follow him...

INT. DICKENS STUDY - NIGHT 99 99

GRIP lands on the desk, revealing a happy Scrooge and the POSSE flicking through the newly printed book, giggling at the Leech print of the Fezziwigs.


103

DICKENS (V.O.)In the season of hope, we will shut out nothing from our firesides and everyone will be welcome.

Taking off once again GRIP flies through the open window and out over the chimney tops of London...

EXT. HATCHARD’S BOOKSTORE - NIGHT100 100

... Grip lands on the Hatchard’s sign.

DICKENS (V.O.)Welcome what has been and what is, and what we hope may be, to this shelter underneath the holly. Happy, happy Christmas to one and all.

Below, a line-up of people trail down the street and around the corner, waiting to purchase their copy of The Carol. We move up and up to reveal the wide snow filled streets of a beautiful bustling Dickensian Christmas world.

FADE OUT.

THE END


104

the man who invented christmas by susan coynewho+invented+christm… · the man who invented...

Documents